


Harry Potter and the Time-Turner

by realismandromance



Series: Time-Turner [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hogwarts Third Year, Mystery, No Slash, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Platonic Relationships, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realismandromance/pseuds/realismandromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Hermione use the Time-Turner to go back three hours to save Sirius. But it malfunctions, and they end up twenty years in the past. Time-Turners never send people back in time without a reason. What is it, and how will they get back? Meanwhile, Harry realises the difficulties of trying to change the future and uncovers secrets about the past, his parents and himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Turns

_'What we need,' said Dumbledore slowly, and his light-blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, 'is more_ time _.'_

_'But –' Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. 'OH!'_

_'Now pay attention,' said Dumbledore, speaking very low, and very clearly. 'Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you._ You must not be seen. _Miss Granger, you know the law – you know what is at stake …_ you – must – not – be – seen. _'_

_Harry didn't have a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door._

_'I am going to lock you in. It is –' he consulted his watch, 'five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.'_

'Three turns?' Harry repeated blankly, staring after Dumbledore's retreating form. 'Hermione, what –?'

But she was already reaching down the front of her robes to pull out what looked like a small hourglass on a gold chain around her neck, muttering feverishly all the while, 'Oh, it better work, I hope … I  _hope_  this works …'

'What are you –?' Harry began, but Hermione said impatiently, 'Harry, come over here quick!' He moved over and she draped the gold chain over his neck as well. Then she took the hourglass and turned it over once – twice – three times …

Everything began to spin. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand to stop him slipping the chain off over his head; he winced and looked around, but the spinning made him feel dizzy; he shut his eyes and when he opened them, the spinning had stopped and they were standing in the Entrance Hall.

'Come on, Harry!' Hermione whispered, whipping the chain off his shoulders and dragging him into a nearby broom cupboard.

'Look, Harry,' she said urgently. 'This –' she showed him the hourglass '– is a Time-Turner. That's how I've been getting to all my classes – by turning back time. If it worked, we've now gone three hours back in time. I think Dumbledore wants us to rescue Sirius on Buckbeak, you know, by flying him up to the tower …'

'" _If_  it worked?"' Harry frowned, staring at the Time-Turner. 'You've been using it all year; what could go wrong now?'

'Don't ask,' Hermione said distractedly, looking at her watch. 'Where were we three hours ago? … We had the Cloak on and we were going down to Hagrid's …' She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and continued: 'We should have passed here by now, oh, I just hope this works …'

She pushed the door of the broom cupboard open and grabbed Harry, who was trying to make sense of all this, towards the castle's doors. Together they tugged them open, and Hermione gasped in horror.

It was raining. Cold, wet drops of rain were falling in sheets, onto the grounds, onto the Quidditch pitch, onto Hagrid's hut, and onto the castle's front steps.

'But this can't be right!' Hermione cried frantically, slamming the doors shut again and leaning against them as if determined to blot them out. 'It wasn't even  _cloudy_  three hours ago!'

'Where –  _when_  are we?'

'That's just it, I don't know,' she said, breathing hard as she looked at Harry. 'Oh, why didn't I say so … The Time-Turner's been malfunctioning for days, taking me too far back … I should have told Professor McGonagall, but I didn't, and – Oh, Harry, it's all my fault!' she cried.

'Well,' said Harry cautiously, after taking some time to digest all this, 'the first thing we should do is find out  _when_  we are. Then I suppose we can ask Dumbledore or McGonagall to send us back …'

'We can't ask anyone for help, Harry!' Hermione wailed. 'Professor McGonagall showed me loads of stuff that happened to people who meddled with time! We've got to be careful!'

'OK, OK, it was just an idea! How the  _heck_  are we supposed to get back if we can't do it by ourselves and nobody else knows who we are?'

'Harry, keep your voice down,' Hermione begged. 'We'd better go into the Great Hall before somebody finds us … It's a good thing we're wearing school robes,' she added. 'We'll look inconspicuous.'

They entered the Great Hall. It appeared to be just after dinner; the teachers had left and around twenty students remained, some talking, others bemoaning the amount of homework they had been set …

'POTTER!'

Both Harry and Hermione jumped. Professor McGonagall was striding into the Great Hall, livid with rage, a small first-year panting nervously behind her, but she wasn't heading for Harry; rather, towards a clump of people near the Gryffindor table –

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and then casually walked over. Harry's heart nearly stopped when he saw who Professor McGonagall had been yelling at.

Two black-haired boys, about his own age, had apparently been staging a mock duel: both had their wands out and were pointing them at a round Slytherin boy who looked perfectly normal, apart from the fact that his terrified face and head were twice their normal size. The first black-haired boy had hazel eyes and round spectacles, and his messy hair stuck up at the back, just like Harry's. The second boy's hair was longer, and he was handsomer, but both James Potter and Sirius Black had an insolent, Fred-and-George-ish look about them as they turned to face Professor McGonagall.

' _Potter!_   _And_  you, Black! How  _dare_  you!' Professor McGonagall shrieked, bearing down upon the guilty pair. 'How  _dare_  you use an illegal hex! Twenty points from Gryffindor and double detention for the pair of you!' Then she turned to the hexed Slytherin and said in a slightly calmer, though brusque tone, 'You'd better get off to the hospital wing, Aubrey, that looks bad. Miss Bobbin, if you could help him …'

Harry watched as a Slytherin girl with long blonde hair went over to Aubrey and murmured in his ear as they left, 'It's all right, Bertram … Madam Pomfrey'll fix it in no time and then we can get back at Potter and his mates …'

'Gits,' said a voice so close to Harry's ear that he started; the boy next to him, a sallow, stringy Slytherin, was looking at James and Sirius with an expression of extreme distaste on his face. The red-haired girl standing at his side shrugged non-committally.

'Forget it, Sev,' she told him lightly, 'they're just a couple of bigheads. Goodbye,' she added, as she turned to leave the Hall, 'I've got that Slug Club meeting with Professor Slughorn, I just remembered.'

'Bye, Lily,' said the boy gloomily. He was still eyeing the two boys. Harry turned to see Hermione tugging at his arm. 'Yes, Hermione?'

'We need to talk. Come on,' she said, and she half-walked, half-ran out of the Great Hall, Harry sprinting after her.

'Where?' Harry asked, panting, as he caught up. Habit brought them to the portrait of the Fat Lady, which was the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. She frowned down at them.

'Password?' she asked.

 _'Fiat lux,'_  Harry said confidently, without thinking.

She knit her eyebrows together. 'Where have you been? Not even close.' Before Harry could reply, Hermione pinched him so hard he yelped in pain before he realised what she was on about. 'Bye,' he said hurriedly, as the Fat Lady looked after them, bemused.

'C'mon!' Hermione said as Harry glanced back at the Fat Lady. 'We need to find somewhere to talk.' She made sure no one was near and then lowered her voice. 'We can't go in there, obviously; and it's not as if we can just sprint into the nearest bathroom …' Her voice trailed off as she put her hand to her mouth.

'What?' asked Harry, but he already knew.

 _'Moaning Myrtle's bathroom,'_  they said together, and then set off for the second floor, watching for students as they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue credit: _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ by J. K. Rowling (Chapter 21: Hermione's Secret)


	2. In the Bathroom

They made sure no one was watching them, then they pushed open the door to the bathroom. Harry slipped into the cubicle at the end of the aisle and Hermione locked the stall door after them.

'Look,' said Hermione, leaning against the door of the stall, as Harry perched on the toilet lid, facing her, 'I think I've figured out roughly when we are. The fall of You-Know-Who was – well, will be – in 1981, right? And your birth was a year before. If we say that your parents were about twenty-one when they were killed, then that would make this around the year 1974 – which means that we've gone twenty years back in time.'

Harry thought about this. 'Blimey, we're in it deep,' he said finally. 'Is there a way to travel forwards in time? Or does the Time-Turner only work backwards?'

'I don't know.' Hermione sighed. She pulled out the Time-Turner from around her neck and looked at it sombrely. 'Even if it does, we can't use this one. It's malfunctioning. We might be sent further back in time, or even too far into the future. If we ever go back using this, we'll have to get it fixed.'

'How?'

Hermione shook her head. 'We can't fix it without a teacher's help. And a teacher will want to know who we are and why we have a Time-Turner. We could end up altering the future! And we can't let that happen!' She looked stricken, then she glanced at her watch. 'It's seven o'clock. We've got to find somewhere to stay the night. We can't go to the dorms or even the common room, and we'll get in trouble if we stay out in the corridors beyond eight-thirty. Any ideas?'

'No,' Harry said immediately, and unhelpfully.

'Big help you are.'

'Sorry.'

She smiled. 'It's all right, I'm just worried.'

'Don't be.'

'What do you mean,  _don't be_? We're stuck  _twenty years_  away from home and you tell me not to worry?'

Harry laughed. Hermione shot him a fierce look.

'Fine,' he said. 'I've got an idea. Let's look for a secret passage or something. Hogwarts is a thousand years old, right? There are loads of secret passages and rooms; I saw some on the Marauder's Map.'

Hermione gasped. 'The Marauder's Map! Why didn't I think of it? Won't Sirius and Lupin and the rest of them see us on it? I mean, they might see your name and wonder why there's another Potter on the map.'

'No, they wouldn't,' Harry corrected her. 'They only created the Marauder's Map after they became Animagi, Lupin said – and they only became Animagi in fifth year.'

'Still … I think it's best if we don't talk to anyone we know in the future. It could get awkward. They shouldn't know anything about their future selves.' She paused and then said quietly, 'The Time-Turner never sends people to a particular time without a reason – even if there's a side effect. For instance, when it used to send me back a few hours too early in time, I found it actually helped, because it would give me more time to study. The side effect was that I was always too tired to really pay attention.

'Look, Harry, we must be here for a reason. Maybe it's  _meant to be_  that we don't save Sirius and Buckbeak and instead go back twenty years to change something else for the better. Maybe –'

'– you think we won't save Sirius? That he's  _meant_  to get Kissed? Maybe you think that, Hermione, but I don't. It's just … cruel.'

'It's cold in here. Let's go,' Hermione said suddenly, ignoring him.

Harry stood up and edged out of the way as Hermione opened the door with a loud squeak. At the same time, a similar squeak issued from the door of the stall next to them, which had opened to reveal the same sallow, stringy boy that had stood next to Harry in the Great Hall earlier. He moved swiftly, blocking their way out.

They had heard no sounds before. It was clear that he had been in the bathroom since they arrived and had unintentionally eavesdropped on their conversation. Hermione gasped.

'Who are you?' he said, pulling a wand out of his robes and pointing it at them.

Harry pulled out his own wand. The boy was about the same height as he, but he felt unnerved as he looked into the deep black eyes. Ignoring the question, he asked defensively, 'Why were you spying on us?'

'I wasn't spying!'

Harry snorted. 'Maybe you don't call hiding in the toilet stall next to us, being extremely quiet while listening to us  _spying_ , but I do.'

'I don't care what you call it. It was an accident. Now tell me who you are.'

Harry gripped his wand tightly. 'And why should we do that? You heard what we said. We can't tell anybody.'

The boy raised his eyebrows. 'Have it your own way. All I have to do is take you two to Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure he'd be curious to find out why two unidentified students wearing Hogwarts robes are sneaking around his castle.'

'He won't believe you,' Hemione retorted, speaking for the first time to the boy. His eyes moved from Harry's face to hers.

'Oh, no? And how do you know? Dumbledore's a lot smarter than a lot of the other teachers. Even Slughorn's no match for him.'

'I've met Dumbledore, and I don't care who Slughorn is. Let us past and we'll leave you in peace.' Harry tried to move sideways, edge around the boy, but he blocked their way. 'Let us out!'

'He's the Potions master … And why should I?' The boy had a maddeningly superior tone of voice.

 _'Expelliarmus!'_  Harry yelled suddenly, but the boy retaliated with a swift Shield Charm, forcing them apart. Now two things were clear; Harry and Hermione could not get out of the bathroom, due to the Shield Charm, and neither could jinx the other, at least until the protective shield was removed.

They were stuck.

'I might tell you why we're here,' Harry said carefully, 'if you tell us things about you. Like who you are. And the exact date.  _And_  why you were spying. And  _only_  if you don't go to Dumbledore.'

The boy sighed deeply, then said, his black eyes watching them from the other side of the Shield Charm, 'My name is Severus Snape, half-blood.'


	3. Severus Snape

Hermione gasped and managed to turn it into a cough. Harry simply looked at the boy, dumbfounded, in a new light. He'd come to respect the boy the tiniest bit, maybe even like him for his wit and bravery, but this was different. He felt a surge of anger rise in his chest and Hermione looked frightened at what he might do.

The boy noticed. 'What's wrong?' he asked quickly.

'Nothing,' Harry lied. 'Go on.' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione glance at her watch again; he looked for one brief second; it was now twenty minutes past seven. They needed to hurry if they wanted to find a place to stay. But then again, this boy might prove useful.

'The date?' Snape said lazily, watching them. 'The sixth. Of June. Nineteen seventy-four.'

Hermione shot Harry an I-told-you-so look. He restrained from rolling his eyes with difficulty.

'And I wasn't spying,' Snape repeated. 'If you must know, that git Potter –' Hermione kicked Harry to stop him retorting angrily, but Snape noticed none of this '– and his mates chased me in here after dinner. For no reason at all. Everyone thinks Potter –' it was evident that this was a touchy point with Snape '– and his mates are the best,  _just_  because they're so  _talented_  and Potter's so  _brilliant_  on a broomstick.'

'So what if they are?' Harry snapped, before he could stop himself.

'What do you mean,  _so what if they are_?' Snape looked offended. 'What's it to you? … Who are you, anyway?' he added, staring at the pair of them. 'I told you my name; now you tell me yours.'

'Fine!' Harry said, annoyed. 'This is Hermione Granger –' he reckoned he could get away with it; her parents were Muggles '– and I'm Harry.' It felt strange to be introducing himself; in the wizarding world, he had always been so famous that people knew his name before he could tell them.

'Harry what?' Snape said, looking suspicious.

'None of your business,' Hermione interrupted, speaking at last. She was slightly pale, but determined. 'What else did you hear?'

'Well, said Snape, putting on a resigned air, 'I know you're from the future, around twenty years ahead. I also know that you got here by using a malfunctioning Time-Turner, which means that you don't know why you're here. And another thing I know is that you probably didn't get here by chance, and that you were trying to go back to save somebody and ended up here. The last thing I know …' he eyed Harry and Hermione shrewdly, ' … is that you're both stuck, and you have my word that I won't tell on you  _if_  you promise to let me help you.'

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again.

'So, is it a deal?' Snape was leaning against the wall unconcernedly, watching them, but as Harry looked at him, he could tell that he was very interested in their plight.

Hermione said 'yes' at the exact same moment Harry gave a sharp 'no'. Snape looked mildly surprised.

'Give us a moment,' Hermione said, her voice shaking; whether with exasperation or suppressed rage, Harry didn't know. She ducked into the stall they had recently vacated, pulled Harry in after her and whispered angrily, 'What do you think you're doing? Can't you tell he'll help us?'

'Hermione, are you mad? That's Sn––'

'I don't care who it is!' she hissed; her voice, though still quiet, was becoming higher- and higher-pitched. 'We need help and he offered it! Nobody else can help us – not even Dumbledore! Don't you get it?'

'But –'

'"But" what?' she snapped.

Harry looked at her. Her brown hair was becoming bushier than ever and her eyes had tears of anger and exasperation in them. He suddenly reflected that it was the first time she had been really annoyed at him: before, she had always gone off at Ron.

'Nothing,' he said quietly, hating Snape. 'Fine. Do it your way.'

She bit her lip, but said nothing more; pushing open the door of the stall, they confronted Snape.

'Well?' he asked, trying to adopt a nonchalant expression and failing. 'Deal?'

Hermione gripped Harry's wrist sharply.

'Yes,' Harry said stiffly.

Snape raised his black eyebrows.

'I didn't think you'd change your mind,' he said abruptly, talking to Harry. Then his face clouded. 'You look a lot like that Potter, you know. Except for your eyes – and that scar. Same hair, same glasses, though – I'm surprised your name isn't James The-World's-Biggest-Git Potter into the bargain.' Snape scowled, and Harry was on the point of retaliating, but held his tongue.

'Coincidence, probably,' he said, shrugging it off lightly.

'Whatever,' said Snape. 'Listen – what did you say your names were?'

'Harry.'

'Hermione.'

'All right; well, I've got an idea. Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?'

'No,' Harry and Hermione said in unison.

'Well, it's this brilliant secret room in Hogwarts; it … well, it'll be better to show it to you.' He removed the Shield Charm with a wave of his wand and Harry and Hermione followed him out of the bathroom.

'C'mon … this way,' muttered Snape, hurrying along corridors and up staircases, Harry and Hermione panting along behind him. Like Harry, Snape was very skinny, though Harry doubted that this was for the same reason he himself was – because his relatives near-starved him.

'Severus!' a voice cried, and a red-haired girl came rushing up the corridor towards Snape, Harry and Hermione. On catching sight of Snape, she said, gasping for breath, 'There wasn't any meeting tonight, Sev; Professor Slughorn told me the wrong date by accident. It's actually next week, and …' Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of who was behind Snape; when she saw Harry, her eyes narrowed.

'What're you doing here, Potter?' she asked defensively, glaring at him. Harry was just about to say he wasn't Potter – not the Potter she meant, anyway – and to tell Snape to get on with it. Snape, however, interrupted before Harry had even started.

'It's not Potter, it's Harry,' he explained, dragging Harry forwards. 'And this is Hermione.' And he whispered something in the girl's ear that Harry could not hear, but had no doubt of the meaning.

'You said you wouldn't tell anyone!' he said, trying to find fault with Snape more than anything else. Snape did not look too bothered about this.

'It's fine, it's just Lily,' he said offhandedly. Harry, however, was sure that Snape had just told Lily everything he knew about them.

 _'Lily?'_  he gasped, as a new thought struck him. Lily, on the other hand, was looking at Snape in mild indignation.

' _Just_  Lily?' she said, her bright green eyes slits.

'Oh, yeah,' said Snape cheerfully; it was obvious that he and Lily were friends, maybe even best friends. 'Just Lily Evans.'


	4. The Room of Requirement

'But … ' There was a sinking feeling in Harry's stomach. The girl had called his father Potter, but in a haughty tone that clearly showed how much she disliked his father. Why did everyone he had met so far dislike him so much? He had no idea why Lily did, but Snape was a different matter. The words Lupin had said to him a few hours ago ( _was_  it a few hours ago?) about Snape came to his ears:  _'We were in the same year, you know, and we – er – didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch pitch … '_

And another recollection swam to the front of his mind against his will and stayed there; a picture of himself and an adult Snape – Snape had found the Marauder's Map and was sneering at Harry, trying to provoke him into telling the truth …

_'How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter … He, too, was exceedingly arrogant … Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers … the resemblance between you is uncanny …'_

And what had he said in return? Harry winced as he remembered his own defiant answer.

_'My dad didn't strut. And neither do I.'_

But how could he be so sure? How could he  _know_  that his father hadn't been an arrogant prat, the way Snape had always told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Sirius and Lupin had all given him glowing reports of his father … but Sirius and Lupin were James's friends, after all, Harry thought with a pang … maybe they were just biased in favour of him …

Was that why Snape hated James so much? Not because he just  _did_ , but because James was so popular, because James had bullied him, the way Harry had seen him bully the round-faced Slytherin boy in the Great Hall?

 _You're just jumping to conclusions,_  Harry told himself desperately, trying to quash the rising doubts in his mind. Lupin had said that James and Sirius had been the height of cool, surely it had only been Snape and Lily who really disliked them …

And what about Snape? The adult Snape loathed him as much as Harry hated him back, didn't he, always picking on him in class and calling him an attention-seeking, arrogant prat? The Snape Harry had met just half an hour ago did not know who he, Harry, really was, and seemed to even  _like_  Harry and Hermione, whom he had offered to help. He did not know what to think.

'Harry, come on,' called Snape, tearing along ahead of him, dragging a confused Lily by his side as he raced along corridors. Harry followed dazedly; it felt very strange to be called in such a friendly manner by one whom he considered an enemy (admittedly, Snape did not know who he was). It felt even stranger that, as much as he hated Snape, he couldn't help liking this boy. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that it was all a very strange dream, and that he would wake up in the hospital wing with Hermione any minute. And Ron, complete with a broken leg …

When they reached the seventh floor, Snape stopped, waited for Harry and Hermione to catch up, and then, ignoring their pants and wheezes, strode over to the wall opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and asked Harry confidently, 'What would you like?'

'Wha–– what d'you mean?' said Harry. 'What are you talking about?'

'I mean – what do you want? You two'll need somewhere to stay the night, and – '

'Hang on,' interrupted Harry. 'You're not saying that  _this_  is the door to the Room of Reduction or whatever it is?' He gestured to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

'The Room of Requirement. And  _this_  is the door,' Snape said cryptically, nodding at the blank wall on the other side.

Harry squinted at it. 'You're having me on,' he said finally.

'No, he's not,' interjected Lily. 'It really is. I'll show you it if – '

'"If" what?'

The last words came out in a rush. 'If you  _swear_  not to tell anybody about it. And that includes Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew.'

'The makers of the Marauder's Map?' Harry said, before he could stop himself.

'The what?' Snape looked suspicious.

'Never mind,' Hermione said. 'All right, so we sw––'

 _'What are you doing?'_  Harry mouthed at her, out of the corner of his mouth, so that Snape and Lily wouldn't see.

Hermione shot him a meaningful look and flexed her left wrist slightly, flicking the face of her watch towards him. Harry understood this to mean,  _'We haven't got much time.'_

'OK,' he said hurriedly, with the uncomfortable feeling that he would regret this promise later. 'We swear – now show us the room.'

Snape seemed to enjoy having Harry and Hermione depend on him. He whispered something to Lily, and together they paced back and forth three times in front of the blank wall, amid Harry and Hermione's obvious confusion. Harry was just about to ask Snape what in the wizarding world he was doing, when an ornately carved door suddenly materialised in the space where, seconds before, there had been an expanse of empty wall.

'This,' Snape said, grabbing the shiny brass doorknob and wrenching the door open to reveal an enormous room, very like a dormitory, with two four-poster beds complete with bedside tables and tapestries hanging on the walls, 'is the Room of Requirement.' He stood aside for Lily to enter, and then waited as Harry and Hermione scrambled in, shutting the door behind them.

Harry suddenly realised that his mouth had dropped open in astonishment. Hurriedly, he closed it again.

'But – this is brilliant!' Hermione cried, walking around. 'How did you do this?' She lifted her arm and made a sweeping motion, gesturing to the whole room.

'No problem,' Lily said cheerfully, regaining her voice as she studied the Room. 'It's the Room of  _Requirement_  – just ask it what you want, and it'll appear. Nothing to it.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a gigantic floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with books of all shapes and sizes appear against the wall just in front of Hermione. He heard her very audible gasp.

'See?' Lily said, as Hermione, her face glowing, began to inspect the books. 'We've made it so that only people you trust can come in here – so right now, Severus and I can come in. Also, the only thing the Room doesn't produce is food, so we'll have to figure out a way to smuggle you two some.'

'How did you find out about this room?' Harry asked curiously, talking more to Snape than Lily.

Snape turned crimson, but his voice was steady as he answered, 'Potter and his mates were chasing me last year, and I was thinking that I needed somewhere to get away from them – and the door appeared.' He looked suddenly defensive and sulky.

Harry's stomach gave a queer lurch. He wished he hadn't asked. 'So they didn't find you?' he said, without really thinking about what he was saying. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

'What do you think?' Snape snapped. 'Of course they didn't! They don't even know about the Room – but we don't want to take any chances. That's why we made you two swear.' His face contorted suddenly for a moment, giving Harry a mental image of his older self.

'Anyway,' Lily said briskly, thinking for a moment and then glancing at a clock that appeared almost immediately on the wall, 'Sev and I've got to get going, or we'll be in trouble for being out late.' Snape followed her to the door, and they left.


	5. Time-Turners and Patronuses

'Harry!'

Harry turned to see Hermione wrench her eyes from an enormously large book titled  _Time-Turners: The True Nature of One of the Wizarding World's Oldest Artefacts_  and look at him.

'Harry, I've just thought of something,' she said excitedly, dropping the book on a table and sitting down at it. 'Come here – look – I was reading this passage, and then –' Harry flipped the book towards him and squinted at the finely printed words on the page:

> _Time-Turners, though they seem harmless, are among the most dangerous magical objects ever created. They have, as we all know, the ability to turn back time, an hour per full spin of the small hourglass we call, fittingly enough, a Time-Turner. Scores of witches and warlocks have turned back time simply for the intent of changing the past to put themselves in a more positive light, or simply for personal amusement. However, these little escapades can prove fatal if, for instance, the witch or warlock happens to chance upon their future or past self, and, suspecting Dark Magic, may kill their own self, without ever becoming the wiser. This is what prompted the Ministry of Magic to ban all private use of Time-Turners, and strictly regulate use. The current whereabouts of all the Time-Turners in Britain to date is the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic, where they are kept under medium-level security. However, although this is far less common, witches and warlocks have gone back in time purely to save loved ones, and end up not only saving their friends', but their own lives as well. This, though, is not nearly enough evidence to suggest that the Ministry of Magic will release their hold on the stock of Time-Turners in Britain, as there is much more chance that they will do more harm than good if released into society._

'Hermione,' said Harry, when he had finished, 'if this is just another way of saying we shouldn't have gone back – '

'No – that's not what I mean! What I meant was – don't you remember what happened – well – earlier? When Professor Lupin transformed and Pettigrew got away? D'you remember what happened after that?'

'That would be about the time the Dementors came, wouldn't it?' Harry thought aloud, remembering the chill and despair he had felt when they had swooped down on Sirius, Hermione and him.

'That's what I thought!' She jabbed her finger at one of the sentences near the bottom of the page, the one that read,  _'However, although this is far less common, witches and warlocks have gone back in time purely to save some loved ones, and end up not only saving their friends', but their own lives as well.'_ 'Somebody must have come along and saved us from them – otherwise we wouldn't be here now! I didn't see who it was – I must have fainted, there were so many Dementors …'

'Somebody cast a Patronus at them,' Harry said, straining his memory to remember the event. 'Whoever it was did the real thing, and it was a really big animal … a doe, I think, or a stag …' He screwed up his forehead and Hermione looked shocked.

'But who was it?' she cried, her eyes bright. 'Did you see who it was?'

'No – well, not really. I thought it was somebody – but it  _couldn't_  be – maybe I was seeing things –'

'Who did you think it was?'

Harry looked at her flushed, earnest face and decided to tell the truth, even if she thought he was mad.

'I thought – well – I reckoned it was my dad,' he said quietly, watching the suspense on her face turn into shock, and then astonishment, and then something that was so akin to pity that he half wished he hadn't told her.

'But – well – I … Harry, your dad's  _dead_ ,' she stammered, looking at him strangely. 'He was  _then_ , anyway …'

'I know,' Harry said, shifting his gaze from her face and glancing around the room without really seeing it. 'Maybe I  _was_  imagining it. But I thought I recognised him … I've got pictures of him …'  _Back in our own time_ , he finished in his head.

Hermione was still gazing at him in the same strange way. Then, very abruptly, she turned away and lay down on one of the spacious four-poster beds, staring up at the ceiling. Even though she didn't say anything more, Harry could almost see the gears whirring in her brain behind her brown eyes as she tried to make sense of all that had happened in the last ten – ten? – hours. Sighing, he crawled into the other four-poster, reflecting that, excepting the times he had spent the night in the hospital wing, it was the first time he had slept at Hogwarts without being in the same room as Ron.


	6. 'Who Are You?'

The night was cold – too cold. Harry had felt this before, and he knew what it meant. Still he did not move away from Sirius's side. Hermione had caught up to him now, and as her wide eyes met Harry's, he could see his own pale face reflected in them, but also shadows … Whipping his head around suddenly, he was confronted by at least a hundred Dementors, all swooping towards the small group.

Harry felt cold – cold to his very heart. He tried to think of something happy –  _'Expecto patronum!'_  he chanted, raising his wand with a shaking hand and pointing it at the Dementors.  _'Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!'_

But there was nothing, save for a few wisps of airy, silvery gas that the Dementors quickly vanquished, leaving darkness and despair in their wake. No triumphant Patronus burst from the end of his wand as he struggled to stay conscious, the Dementors getting closer and closer …

_'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'_

_'Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside now –'_

_'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –'_

_'This is my last warning –'_

_'Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy …'_

And then a silvery shape burst from behind the Dementors and cantered forwards … Harry tried to focus on it, his eyesight blurring madly … It was a doe. Or a stag. He couldn't tell which – nor could he be sure of the figure, half-illuminated in the Patronus's light, half hidden in the shadows, that reached out a hand to welcome it home –

_'Harry!'_

Harry opened his eyes. At first he he was sure that he was in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and Ron was standing next to the bed –

But the figure next to the bed was not Ron, it was Hermione, and it was her pale face (slightly blurred as he wasn't wearing his glasses), surrounded by a mane of bushy hair, that looked down at him.

'Harry – are you all right?'

'Course I am,' Harry answered grimly, though he felt far from it. He groped for his glasses on the bedside table, slipped them on, and the room came into focus. 'Why? What's wrong?'

'You were moaning in your sleep,' Hermione said briskly, standing up. 'You sounded really weird, you know – like you were possessed or something.'

'Oh – er … must have been a nightmare,' Harry said, shrugging the news off non-committally. Behind her, Harry could see the room of Requirement almost exactly the way it had been the night before, with the exception of another door in the wall behind Hermione.

'That's the door to the bathroom,' Hermione said, noticing Harry's gaze. 'I asked it for earlier this morning, and it just, well –  _appeared._  You'd better get up,' she added, 'it's past eight already and if we're ever going to get out of this mess, we'd better start now.'

 _This mess?_  Suddenly recalling the confusing events of the night before, Harry sprang out of bed. 'What're we going to do? And where're Snape and Mu–– Lily?'

'Probably down at breakfast. With any luck, they won't have abandoned us or gone to see Dumbledore. They did promise, but –'

'But you're not sure if we you can trust them,' Harry finished for her. 'I feel the same way.' Hermione looked distinctly relieved.

'If only we had the Invisibility Cloak!' Harry said suddenly. 'We could go out and look around … as it is, we'll have a time not being noticed –'

'Where is it?'

Harry thought. 'In the Shrieking Shack,' he said, thinking back. 'Snape took it off and tossed it into the corner' – he smacked himself on the head – 'and it was right there – I could have just picked it up or something, and I didn't …' He threw himself into an armchair, cursing his own stupidity.

Hermione didn't answer. She stood there in front of him, apparently thinking. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as a dark-coloured bundle appeared on the table next to Harry. She grabbed it, and unfolded it and shook it out, and Harry gaped.

'It's not as good as yours, though,' Hermione said critically, lifting up the Invisibility Cloak and examining it. 'There's a thin patch here, look …'

'We never had any trouble with mine, did we?' Harry reminded her, fingering the Cloak. It was not nearly as light or as silvery as his own Cloak, which hadn't even been new (he'd inherited it from his father). He let this go. What choice did they have?

'All right,' he said, easing it out of her hands and making to throw it over both of them. 'We'd better go and have a look around –'

'Not both of us!' Hermione said, looking scandalised and backing away slightly. 'One of us had better stay behind to guard the Room. 'No,' she said, as Harry gave an indication that he would go, 'you'd better wait here. Because I'm Muggle-born, and if you get seen, you'll cause a lot of awkward questions.' Harry felt confused for a moment, until he realised that he still looked a lot like his father, especially that they were now the same age. He nodded, and Hermione left, opening the door with an invisible hand and shutting it behind her.

Barely had ten minutes passed when there was a soft knock on the door and a red-headed girl, just about his age, came in, looking all around the room cautiously as she entered.

'Hi,' Lily said, moving over to the place where Harry sat in the squashy armchair. He spun around, having not heard her come in, and he saw her face – his eyes focused on hers – bright green, almond-shaped eyes that widened when they met his, because they were so much like her own. She stumbled backwards, her intent lost as she stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror. ' _Who_  –' she gasped, breathing hard at his face, knowing that he knew what had happened and determined to know exactly what was going on, '– are  _you_?'

Harry stared at her, completely lost for words. She frowned at him and said, 'Don't tell me what you told Severus – I already know all that. Tell  _me_  who you are. Who you really are.'


	7. The Right Place at the Wrong Time

Harry hesitated. He could feel Lily's – his mother's – eyes boring into his own. It was unnerving to be staring into eyes so exactly like his that he might have been looking into his own.

 _Oh, Li–– Mum,_  Harry thought suddenly, agonisingly,  _I've wanted to meet you all my life, but not like this. Never like this._  The words that Hermione had said to him the day before, in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, crossed his mind:  _Maybe it's meant to be that we don't save Sirius and Buckbeak, and instead go back twenty years to change something else for the better. Maybe –'_  But, much as he admired her for her clear-headedness and logic, he couldn't agree with her. How could this spontaneous trip into the past be anything but a long-winded nightmare? And yet it was all frighteningly, shockingly real; this was still Hogwarts, but twenty years ago; they were simply in the right place at the wrong time, with no clear indication of why.

He had not spoken all this time, and it was a painful jerk back into reality when Lily, waiting for an answer impatiently, repeated loudly, all the time never dropping her intensive, interrogative gaze, 'Who are you?'

Harry started, and mentally shook himself to clear his head. Trying to think, he answered, 'What do you want to know?'

'Your name, for a start,' Lily said briefly.

Harry swallowed.  _His own mother did not know his name._  'I – I can't tell you.'

Lily's eyes narrowed. 'Why not? Is it something to do with me, in the future? No!' she cried, as Harry averted his eyes.

' _Look_  at me! Your eyes – they're just like mine – exactly like mine! And don't you dare tell me it's a coincidence – I know better.' Hands on her hips, she glared at Harry. 'Where are you two from?'

'Listen,' Harry said desperately, as she glared at him (for a moment he wondered idly if that was how he looked when he was angry), 'you  _can't_  know anything about your future self. It's just ... wrong.' He brushed his hair, which was sweaty with perspiration, out of his eyes, straightening his glasses as he did so.

Lily gasped.'That scar!' she said suddenly. 'That's another thing. Where'd you get it? Scars like that don't come cheap.'

'An – an accident,' Harry improvised wildly. He cast about desperately for a way to change the subject and somehow distract her. 'Listen,' he said again, ' – Lily. I told you – we can't you anything about ourselves, other than the fact that we're from the future and we need your help to get us back. But we're here for a reason, and – well, Hermione reckons we'll have to fulfil that reason before we can return to our own time. Because the Time-Turner doesn't send people back in time without a reason.' he added, unknowingly quoting Hermione.

Lily's open mouth formed a silent 'O'. Harry suddenly wished he hadn't been so blunt, but there was no escaping the fact that even if he so much as told her his full name, her future would be in jeopardy.

'OK,' Lily said quietly. She had dropped her aggressive manner and now looked at Harry determinedly. 'What do you want us to do, Harry?' It was the first time she had called him by name.

Harry thought for a moment. 'We need to find a way to get back to our own time. Suppose you and Snape start researching ways of fixing Time-Turners. We've got to make a start somewhere.'

'OK,' Lily said again. She turned to leave, then stopped. 'Harry?'

Harry froze. 'Yeah?'

The question was almost timid. 'Can I ask you just one question?'

Harry was reminded of what Dumbledore had said to him two years ago when he'd asked that question:  _'Obviously, you've just done so. You may ask me one more thing, however.'_  He stifled a snort, then answered cautiously, 'Is it anything to do with me?'

Pause. 'Sort of.' Then, very fast: 'Why do you call Severus "Snape"?'

'Because,' Harry said, after a split second hesitation, 'I know him in the future.'

Lily paused, then left, deep in thought.


	8. Lily's Legacy

There was a knock at the door of Dumbledore's study.

'Enter,' said Dumbledore. He sounded tired. A second later, Severus Snape strode in, his long black robes billowing behind him. For this was almost twenty years after the scene in the Room of Requirement – a few days before Hermione would give the Time-Turner its pivotal three turns.

'You summoned me?'

'Yes,' Dumbledore answered. He gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. 'Sit down, Severus. There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you.'

Snape sat.

'First,' Dumbledore said, 'I trust you remember when I enlightened you about the connection between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort?'

Snape nodded stiffly.

'You also remember that I also told you that love is the most powerful kind of magic? For instance, this was used to save Harry's life in Godric's Hollow almost thirteen years ago, when Lily Potter' – Snape made some sort of convulsive movement but Dumbledore ignored him – 'used it to safeguard her son's life?'

Snape's lip curled. 'Yes.'

'And you recall our discussion, twelve years ago, when you promised to protect Lily's son?'

Snape nodded again, impatiently this time. 'What are you driving at, Dumbledore?'

'The idea that there may be a connection, however smothered and weak, between yourself and Harry.'

Snape stared.  _'Him?_  – Potter and myself? Dumbledore, I do not see –'

'I may be wrong, of course,' Dumbledore said pleasantly, ignoring Snape's splutters, 'but my hypothesis is that, if Lord Voldemort were to reinforce the connection between himself and Harry, then he may try to possess him, or attack him in ways he will be virtually unable to defend himself against. While the connection is not yet strong enough for that to be possible, I will ask you to try and reopen the deadened link between Harry and yourself.'

Snape froze, then looked Dumbledore in the eyes, black into light blue. 'What makes you think that such a link even exists? The boy is his father all over again. He hates me.'

'Have you not been listening, Severus? Harry carries a talisman inside him, a mark of his mother's love. You, who have loved Lily Potter for many years – for you asked me to protect her – carry an unflinching love inside you. Lily lives in both of you – as a link of love, more powerful than any other known magic. Therefore, it is only reasonable to say that you and Harry have a connection between you, a stronghold that is far, far more powerful that Lord Voldemort's, which he created using death.' Dumbledore paused. Snape was silent.

'So – explain, Dumbledore! How can this –  _link_  with Potter be resurrected?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'But you already know, Severus. Think about it.'

Snape did not answer. Then he muttered, suddenly livid, 'You are not saying – you are not suggesting –'

' – that since Harry dislikes you (a feeling which you return with interest, I am sure), yet you love Lily Potter, the creator of this threefold connection, it is easily surmised that you and Harry are smothering it by expressing feelings of mutual hatred towards each other.' Dumbledore paused, then said lightly, 'I think it is fairly obvious what you must do.'

'But what will I have to gain from a link with Harry Potter?' Snape spat.

Dumbledore glanced at an old grandfather clock on a shelf. 'I think we have talked enough. Before you leave, I may as well add a bit more. Once the link is resurrected, you and Harry will share two things. The first is a connection between both of your minds: an empathy link. The second, though it is connected to the first –' Dumbledore paused. 'The second, I think, will reveal itself to you in good course.' He rose from his seat and Snape took this as a signal to leave.

The meeting was over – for the time being.


	9. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

'I can't  _believe_  it!'

Harry looked up from the book he was perusing. Hermione, her hair bushier than ever as she pored over a very thick library book, looked up at him. 'Believe what?' he asked.

They were in the library, researching Time-Turners. 'That there's nothing, nothing at all in this  _whole library_  about time travel! I'm sure I haven't missed anything – there's just nothing here at all.'

'Maybe Dumbledore got them specially … removed … for … something?' Harry guessed.

'What would be the point? They're not Dark objects like – like other things he might have banned.'

'Maybe they're in the Restricted Section,' Harry said. 'And remember, we won't be able to get in the same way we got in last time.' Last time they'd needed a book from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, they'd managed to get a signed note (which was the only way you could get a book without breaking the rules) from a teacher Hermione had had an obvious crush on: Gilderoy Lockhart.

Hermione turned slightly pink. 'I know that. But nobody except Snape and Lily (hopefully) know we're here. Actually, all we have to do is sneak in at night and be really careful about it. And –'

'Did I hear you right? You  _want_  us to break rules?'

'Desperate times call for desperate measures,' Hermione admonished him severely. 'Besides, it's for the greater good – if it pulls off, hopefully we'll be able to get out of here.' She frowned. 'Although that sounds like something Grindelwald wrote.  _"For the greater good."_ '

'Who?' Harry was sure he'd heard the name before, but he couldn't think where.

'Never mind,' Hermione said impatiently, in a don't-you-ever- _read?_  sort of tone. 'Last time you went, you nearly got caught  _plus_  you got distracted, so I think –'

'That was two years ago!' Harry interrupted indignantly. 'And I'm not sorry I got distracted.' After all, he reminded himself, he'd stumbled upon none other than the Mirror of Erised.

'That's not the point. I'll go. We've got to hurry up on this, otherwise term will be over – it finishes in a few weeks, remember? We can't rely on Snape and Lily too much because they'll have to go home soon and then where'll we be?' She looked slightly wistful as she cleared the table. 'Come on. Let's get out of here and plan in the Room of Requirement.'

* * *

'Password?' grunted the gargoyle outside the entrance to Dumbledore's study.

'Erm,' said Lily. She looked to Snape for help. He looked nonplussed.

'We'll have to guess. Er … Albus Dumbledore. Er … er … what would Dumbledore do?'

Lily shrugged. They'd thought they knew Dumbledore, but now that they were trying to break into his study, nothing came to mind. 'Broomsticks.' She giggled slightly at the thought of Dumbledore flying a broom, his long white beard streaming out behind him (or maybe tucked into his belt in a dignified fashion?). 'Hogwarts. Dragons.' She tried to think of things the Fat Lady used for passwords to the Gryffindor common room. ' _Expecto patronum._  Erm … Mandrake Draught. Quidditch. Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. Butterbeer …' She paused and Snape took up where she left off.

'Acid Pops. Blood Lollipops …' Then he had an inspiration. 'Lily, what's the Hogwarts motto?'

She looked startled, and a little miffed, but said, looking straight at the gargoyle,  _'Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.'_  To their surprise, it moved aside to reveal a circular staircase moving around and around, up and up.

'Come on!' They stepped onto the staircase and it carried them higher and higher. Then they were at the top – at the point of no return, in front of the door to the study. Neither Lily nor Snape had been to Dumbledore's study before.

Snape seemed to read Lily's thoughts. 'We can still go back, if you want to.'

'I know, I know.'

Neither of them moved. Then Lily reached out and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' came Dumbledore's voice.

Snape opened the door and they stepped inside. It closed after them with a snap.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. A enormous scarlet-and-gold bird was perched in a cage near his elbow. He looked up as they entered and smiled.

'Mr Snape, is it? And Miss Evans? Well, I hadn't expected you two – sit down, please.' He twirled his wand and a second chair appeared next to the first in front of his desk. 'What is it?'

Snape looked at Lily, who glanced back at him, imploring him to talk. He shook his head very slightly, saying, 'It was your idea.'

Lily switched her attention to Dumbledore. As she looked into his light-blue eyes, she got the impression that he knew exactly what they had come for. 'We – we came to see you, Professor Dumbledore, because something very strange happened to the two of us a few weeks ago. You see –'

'When exactly?'

'Er … the sixth – earlier this month. It was after dinner, I think, and …' She looked to Snape for help. He finished the sentence for her.

'– and I was in – well – that out-of-order bathroom on the second floor, and I heard two voices in there, a boy and a girl, talking, saying stuff about "Time-Turners", "malfunctioning" and "back in time". The girl also said "the fall of You-Know-Who", so I was really curious, so anyway when they came out I cornered them.' Snape looked pleadingly into Dumbledore's eyes. 'Professor, I know that they made me swear not to tell, but they're from the future! From a Hogwarts that's twenty years ahead! Harry – that's the boy – said they got here using a malfunctioning Time-Turner, and now they're stuck here … well … Lily and I were sort of wondering if you could help.'

Dumbledore leaned back and surveyed the two of them. 'A Time-Turner?' he said. 'Are you sure?'

Snape nodded.

'And you didn't get the impression that they might have been playing a practical joke on you?'

Snape hesitated. 'No – they seemed very sure, and very –' He reddened. 'Very anxious about not being seen.'

'Do you know what they were doing with a Time-Turner – and a malfunctioning one at that? The use of Time-Turners is strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic.'

'No,' said Lily, at the same time Snape said, 'Sort of.' Both Dumbledore and Lily turned to look at him _._

'Hermione – the other one – said something about it in the bathroom, when they didn't know I was listening. I think she said that they were going back in time to save somebody, or some _thing_ , and instead got sent back here.' He looked at Dumbledore apologetically. 'I know that doesn't help much.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Where are these two? Do you know?'

'They might be in the Room of Requirement – this secret room on the seventh floor that becomes or gives you anything you need as long as you ask for it. I showed them how to get there, and they've been spending the nights there, but during the holidays they'll have nowhere to go, and we need you to help send them back.'

'I take it that they don't know you're here.' It wasn't a question.

Lily swallowed. 'Well … no. But you've got to help us.'

'Did they say anything else? Did they recognise you or act in an odd manner when you said your names? Time travel is very dangerous, because people can end up altering the future.'

'N–– yes. Harry looked at me rather strangely when I introduced Lily,' Snape said. 'And before, when I said my name, they both looked really shocked.'

'And he also said that he knows Severus in the future,' Lily added.

Dumbledore sighed again, but this time he stood up. 'Show me the Room of Requirement. I need to talk to your Harry and Hermione.'

Lily looked at Snape, petrified. There was no telling what Harry and Hermione's reaction would be when they found out that Snape and Lily had broken their word and told Dumbledore. But there was nothing else to do, so the three of them left the study and headed for the seventh floor.


	10. A Curious Story

Harry and Hermione were talking in the Room of Requirement when Snape, Lily and Dumbledore arrived. Harry barely looked up, expecting to see just the two of them, but one look at the figure behind them told him the truth. He jumped up.

'You swore you wouldn't tell!' he said to Snape aggressively. Hermione, too, gasped when she caught sight of Dumbledore as he closed the door behind them.

'Hello,' Dumbledore said serenely as he faced Harry and Hermione. 'Mr Snape and Miss Evans have just been to see me with a curious story.' He paused, watching Harry look daggers at Snape and Lily. 'Why don't you all sit down, so we can get this sorted out?'

The placid voice that Harry knew so well jerked a memory in his brain. He sat down again, still angry but feeling suddenly nostalgic. In a world where barely anybody knew him, here was a voice he recognised.

'You know me, don't you?' Dumbledore asked Harry as Snape and Lily sat down, neither of them looking at Harry and Hermione. Harry nodded.

'Who are you, exactly?'

Harry slumped back into the chair. He felt worn out. 'Nobody.'

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but looked Harry straight in the eye. 'You will tell me who you two are, or I won't help you.'

Why was everybody blackmailing them? Harry opened his mouth but it was Hermione who answered.

'I'm Hermione Granger, Professor,' she said, 'and this is Harry … Potter.' Clearly she felt that Dumbledore was trying to help them, no matter what Snape and Lily had done.

Lily stifled an intake of breath. Snape looked mollified, a why-didn't-you-tell-us look on his face. Harry ignored them. He decided to get straight to the point. 'Are you going to send us back?'

'Not yet, Mr Potter,' Dumbledore said. 'First I need to know what you were doing with a malfunctioning Time-Turner. May I have a look at it?'

Hermione reached down her top, pulled it out and handed it to Dumbledore, who examined it carefully. 'Where did you get this?'

'I got it from a teacher so I could go back in time to do all my lessons,' Hermione answered, as Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat. 'I didn't steal it. We were using it with permission to go back in time to save an innocent person from being – sentenced.'

 _And an innocent Hippogriff from being murdered,_  Harry added in his head.

'Who gave you permission?'

Harry interjected, imagining the look on Dumbledore's face, 'You did, Professor.'

Dumbledore simply looked dumbfounded for a moment. Then he nodded. 'Thank you.' He turned to Snape and Lily. 'I must ask you two to wait outside while I talk to Mr Potter and Miss Granger alone.' Both Snape and Lily looked slightly puzzled, but they left.

Dumbledore leaned closer towards Harry and Hermione. 'I need you to tell me two things. First, Mr Potter, why did you look at Mr Snape strangely when he introduced Miss Evans, and second, why did you tell Miss Evans that you know Mr Snape in the future, when you know that is a potentially dangerous thing to say?'

'Because she's my mother,' Harry said quietly, 'and by some – some twist of fate, we've never really met eye to eye. And the second, I did to shut her up – maybe I shouldn't've, but she was asking too many questions.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'But didn't you know what that meant? He'll go through the rest of his life now, wondering who you really are and where you're from. Miss Evans may have already put two and two together and figured out who you are.

'It will not be impossible to send you back, but I cannot do it immediately. As it has often been observed, the best place to hide out in the open. With your permission, I will enrol you two in Hogwarts until I can procure a proper Time-Turner for you.'

'We're going … to … do … school here?' Harry echoed.

'At the very least, until term is over – which is in about three weeks' time. I need you to tell me what year you were in when you left your time, and what house.'

'Third year,' Hermione answered at once.

'And we're both Gryffindors,' Harry said. 'Are you going to move us into a dormitory?'

'Yes – but to avoid suspicion, you'll have to go through the Sorting Ceremony. Actually, it's only fair.'

'What's the point?' Harry said, rather defensively.

'Mr Potter,' said Dumbledore, ' _I_ happen to be the Headmaster of this school, not you.'

Harry scowled. Sometimes Dumbledore could be infuriating.


	11. The Sorting

The next day, Harry and Hermione moved out of the Room of Requirement; though what house they would be in was uncertain. Harry was sure that setting up a Sorting Ceremony was completely useless. He and Hermione were Gryffindors, weren't they? What else was there to say?

Dumbledore introduced them at breakfast, saying that they were students from another wizarding school who had come to Hogwarts for a trial period. Dumbledore had gone over none of this with Harry and Hermione, advising them only to pretend that they were cousins – to make it seem more believable, Harry thought. After Dumbledore had finished introducing them and they had sat down again, Harry thought he might have forgotten about the promised Sorting, but no. Harry reflected bitterly that Dumbledore never forgot anything, old though he was.

'And now, to initiate our two newest students,' said Dumbledore. He turned to Harry and Hermione. 'If you two would come here, please.' He waved his wand in the air and conjured a stool. 'Professor McGonagall, if you would …'

Professor McGonagall, who standing near Dumbledore as he talked, now produced a ragged brown hat from nowhere. She nodded at Hermione. 'You first, Miss Granger.' She gestured to the stool Dumbledore had conjured.

Hermione nodded, went over and sat down. Professor McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on her head as Harry and the rest of the school watched. Harry, who was sitting rather near the front of the room, could see Hermione's expression. First it went from reasonably calm to nervous, and then, for a split second, almost frightened. Then the hat shouted, 'GRYFFINDOR!' and Hermione gave the hat back to Professor McGonagall and joined Lily at the Gryffindor table.

'Your turn, Mr Potter,' said Professor McGonagall. There was an outbreak of whispering as Harry stood up, walked over to the hat and sat down on the stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the hat on his head.

Almost immediately, for the third time in his life, he heard a soft, whispering sort of voice that only he could hear come from the depths of the Sorting Hat.

'Ah, but haven't I Sorted you before?'

'Yes,' thought Harry, 'but that was  _later_ , wasn't it?'

'Time means nothing to me,' said the Hat. 'The fact remains – I have done you before, Mr Potter.'

'Yes, yes,' Harry thought desperately. 'And now why don't you just put me in the house you put me in last time?'

'You'll have to prove that you  _belong_  there,' said the voice. 'Heritage isn't everything, you know. As I have told you before, you are particularly difficult to Sort. Also, this is a different time. You yourself have changed, Harry Potter. Perhaps a different house will bring out the other side of you.'

Harry couldn't think of anything to reply to this.

'Ravenclaw, perhaps … there's some good common sense here – or maybe Hufflepuff? You are loyal – though, I admit, sometimes to the point of idiocy and delusion …'

'Just come on,' Harry thought. 'Hurry up, everybody's waiting …'

'Oh, all right,' said the Hat. Then it yelled, 'SLYTHERIN!'

Harry didn't move. 'I'm not a Slytherin!' he protested silently to the Hat.

'How do you know? You should have  _asked_  not to be one. If you are sure you are a Gryffindor, then I tell you to  _prove_  that you are not a Slytherin …' Then Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat off Harry's head and he got up, feeling dazed and resentful, and headed for the Slytherin table. He had to pay attention to where he was walking; he narrowly missed sitting at the Gryffindor one, where Hermione was gazing over at him, a puzzled look on her face.

'And now that that is over,' Dumbledore announced cheerily, 'I advise you to all finish your breakfast before it gets cold.' Then he sat down and began tucking into his breakfast, but at one point he glanced up and saw Harry watching him. Harry averted his eyes.

The Gryffindor table was right next to the Slytherin one. However, Harry and Hermione were so far apart that there was no chance of talking. Harry turned around towards his breakfast and found, to his annoyance, that he had sat down next to Snape. He glanced up just as the introductions started flowing.

'I'm Avery –'

'– Mulciber –'

'– Parkinson –'

'– and I'm Macnair, Walden Macnair.'

Harry nodded. The last name made him feel slightly sick – he'd heard it before, but he couldn't think where. He picked up a piece of toast but didn't eat; his experience with the Sorting Hat had taken away his appetite. It made him uncomfortable to think that he might actually be a Slytherin.

But hadn't the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor when he was eleven? And hadn't he  _already_  proved that he was a Gryffindor? And he'd asked Dumbledore about it at the end of his second year, and Dumbledore had told him that only a true Gryffindor could have pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat.

He sat still, letting the conversation float over him and ignoring Snape completely. Voices came from the table opposite him: the Gryffindor one. He couldn't see the speaker's voice, but he could see his father (a thrill of delight exploded in his stomach) next to Peter Pettigrew, a small boy with a face like – Harry smirked – a rat. Then, opposite them, with their backs towards Harry, must be Sirius and Lupin. He could figure out who was speaking by craning his neck.

'… don't see why you don't just  _ask_  him,' Lupin was saying.

'I don't want to look like an idiot,' James said stubbornly. 'I mean – come on, Remus, he's a Slytherin!'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Lupin asked, with obviously feigned innocence. 'All you have to do is ask him.'

'Personally, I don't think you should bother,' interjected Sirius lazily. 'You're probably related – he looks rather like you, James.' With this, Harry realised they were talking about him.

'As if!' James broke out scornfully. 'My family have been in Gryffindor for years. It's probably just a coincidence – and I don't want to be related to any Slytherin. Having the same  _surname_  doesn't mean we're related.'

'Maybe you're estranged?' suggested Lupin, sounding as if he did not care, but was just keeping up the conversation for his friend's sake. James looked slightly appeased.

'Maybe,' he said carelessly. 'But I also want to know where he got that scar on his forehead. Can't you see it from here?'

Sirius and Lupin shook their heads, but Peter nodded eagerly, looking at James with some kind of worshipful fascination. James ignored him – rather superciliously, Harry thought.

'A curse scar, probably,' James added. 'It's shaped like a lightning bolt.' Then, very abruptly, he changed the subject. 'Wonder why he was hanging out with that Granger girl. Anyone can see they're not cousins.'

'How do you know?' asked Peter. He was still looking at James almost in adoration.

'Because they don't look anything alike,' James answered impatiently. 'I mean, look at them.' He gestured first towards Hermione, who was further up the Gryffindor table, then to Harry, who had stopped wondering about the Sorting fiasco to listen. 'She's got bushy brown hair, brown eyes and big teeth (reminds me of Evans a bit, somehow) – whereas he's got black hair, green eyes – and that scar, I suppose –'

'But that doesn't mean anything,' Sirius interrupted. 'I don't look anything like any of my cousins, either. Come off it, James! Why are you so obsessed with them, anyway?'

'I'm not obsessed! Just saying that, if they were cousins, they'd likely be in the same house!'

'That still doesn't mean a thing. What about  _me_? All the rest of  _my_  family's in Slytherin – I told you that first day on the train.'

James chose to ignore this. 'What does  _he_  think he's doing, though, sitting next to Snivellus Snape?'

'Honestly, James, who cares?' Sirius said impatiently. Then he changed the subject and Harry turned his attention back to his breakfast with difficulty, his mind still dwelling on what he had overheard.


	12. Bits and Pieces

Harry was half-heartedly making his way down out of the Great Hall and towards the dungeons with the other Slytherins when somebody grabbed his arm.

'Pssst! Harry!' Hermione hissed, pulling him out of the tide of students and against the wall. Harry found some of the Slytherins in his year had stopped as well; Snape had a curious look on his face. 'Just go on ahead,' he told them. 'I'll catch up.'

'But you don't know the way to the common room!' a tall boy protested.

 _Don't I? Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be new here. Bother._  'I'll find a Prefect or something,' he amended, silently willing them to leave. That seemed to do the trick, for most of them disappeared. 'Hermione? Are you OK?'

'I'm fine … what about you? What happened up there? Why are you in – in  _Slytherin_?'

'The Sorting Hat was being an idiot,' Harry snarled, and when she looked appalled, added, 'It told me all this rubbish about a different house bringing out a different side in me – as if I  _want_  to bring out my Slytherin side,' he muttered. 'And it also spewed out stuff' (' _Harry!'_ ) 'about this being a different time and my first Sorting not making any difference. It said I've got to  _prove_  I'm really a Gryffindor – whatever that's supposed to mean.' He leaned against the wall. 'I just want to go home,' he mumbled, feeling slightly ashamed. He braced himself for Hermione's look of pity and was both startled and delighted when it did not appear. Hermione looked horrified.

'But Houses are for life!' she cried. 'And you  _are_  a true Gryffindor – you told me Dumbledore said that only a true Gryffindor could pull that sword out of the Sorting Hat, didn't you? I don't understand! And I –' she paused and said more quietly, 'I don't know how the Hat does it, but it looked into my mind and told me I was heartless and irresponsible to meddle with fate. Then it threatened to give you a good talking to as well. I –' she half-smiled, looking slightly sheepish, 'I told it that it was all my fault that we're here now and that it shouldn't blame you in the slightest. It seemed sort of surprised, actually, and then put me in Gryffindor.'

Harry sighed. 'It didn't bother me. About us going back in time, I mean. But –'

'Hey, what're you two still doing here?' It was a Gryffindor prefect. Harry hadn't realised how much the corridor had emptied since they'd started talking. Now there was only him and Hermione.

'Ummm … nothing …' The prefect cut short Harry's stammered answer and surveyed them both sternly. 'Potter, go to your common room. Granger, you come with me.' She took the edge of Hermione's cloak and was going to take her towards Gryffindor Tower, presumably when Harry said, 'But I don't know where it is.'  _Or the password,_  he added silently. The sixth-year swore under her breath and ran a hand through her spiky black hair. 'Listen, kid, you really shouldn't've been just standing there anyway.' Harry was wondering what they were going to do when another prefect came down the hall. 'Hey Malfoy, help me out, will you? The new kid doesn't know where your common room is.'

 _Malfoy?_  Harry froze in his tracks. Yes, the prefect was definitely Lucius Malfoy, albeit only about seventeen or eighteen. He bit back the words which were on the tip of his tongue.

'Well, I don't see why you should bother yourself with a student from  _my_  house, Lancaster,' Malfoy drawled. 'Why don't you just take your precious little Gryffindor and shove off to your little tower?'

Harry expected Lancaster to retaliate, probably violently, and was surprised when she only raised an eyebrow. 'I'm sure you know that it's our responsibility to make sure the students reach their common rooms before curfew?' she said coolly. 'Of course you do, being a prefect. Come on, Granger.' She turned around and stalked away. Malfoy looked disappointed at the lack of reaction.

'They're all the same, aren't they – Gryffindors, I mean?' he said loudly. 'You should be glad you're not one, Potter. They may act all bloody heroic all the time, but really they're just a bunch of show-offs.'

 _And what does that make you?_  But Harry didn't even feel the urge to make a smart reply this time. Hermione was slowly teaching him to control his temper.

* * *

Harry's opinion of Slytherin house went from bad to worse in the week following his and Hermione's Sorting. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter what the Sorting Hat had told him; he was a Gryffindor through and through. And what was he supposed to  _do_  to prove that he wasn't a Slytherin? It was all completely mad, he thought. But maybe, because this was twenty years ago – nothing that would happen twenty years later would be relevant to  _now_ , would it …?

At least there were no classes to attend. By careful observation (made slightly more difficult due to the fact that they did not have an Invisibility Cloak), Harry and Hermione managed to figure out who taught which classes.

Professor McGonagall taught Transfiguration, of course, and Professor Flitwick Charms, but Divination was taught by a small, overeager witch who (in stark contrast to Professor Trelawney) prophesied things so cheerful and bright they were sickening. It amused Harry to find out that the Professor Slughorn whose name Snape had carelessly mentioned in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was, after all, the Potions master – maybe Snape had learned a few tricks from him? Defence Against the Dark Arts was the class Harry was most curious about, but this year it turned out to be taught by the most boring of teachers; a dreadfully dull wizard whose monotonous speeches rivalled even those of Professor Binns (who was alive, but no less boring as when he taught History of Magic as a ghost). Care of Magical Creatures was led by Professor Kettleburn, a ferrety little wizard with at least one quarter less limbs than a normal person.

Hagrid turned out to be the gamekeeper, but Harry found it awkward not to be on a personal relationship with him. For some reason, he couldn't imagine a Hogwarts without Hagrid. It had been Hagrid who had first told him he was a wizard and introduced him to the wizarding world, and now that he did not know them in this time, Harry and Hermione were reduced to giving him polite 'hello's whenever they crossed paths. He and Hermione decided against meeting properly with Hagrid ('because we've already altered the future too much,' said Hermione). All the same, it was lonely.

Hermione was feeling it too, Harry noticed. He and Hermione were in the library one afternoon (having different common rooms, it was an ideal place to meet), talking, when Harry mentioned Ron, and Hermione, very suddenly, burst into tears.

'What's the matter?' Harry asked, moving closer and putting his arm around her. She seemed to be having a sort of nervous breakdown, not unlike those she had had when she'd used the Time-Turner to do extra classes (the result being that she nearly went mad from all the extra work and the stress). This, however, had quite a different cause.

'It – it's nothing,' she sobbed, her words quite at odds with her face as she buried it it Harry's shoulder. 'I just miss Ron …'

Something grabbed hold of Harry's stomach and clenched it tight.

'It's OK, Hermione,' Harry said as she lifted her head and wiped it at last. 'We'll get back … I know we will.' Another thought entered his mind. 'Come on, Hermione, it's Dumbledore we're talking about …'

She gave him a distinctly watery smile.


	13. Demolishing Castles in the Air

'What are they  _doing_?' Hermione was peering over to the other side of the lake.

'Who?' Harry sat up. He'd been lying on the warm grass, and Hermione was sitting up against a tree, squinting at some figures on the lake's far side.

'Your dad … and Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew – and is that  _Snape_?'

Harry turned his back on the lake. 'I don't want to have anything to do with Snape.'

'Oh, come on, Harry,' Hermione said exasperatedly. 'I know you don't like him in our time, but –'

'It's not that,' Harry said remorselessly. 'I just don't – he betrayed us, Hermione!'

'Yes, but it turned out all right, didn't it? Dumbledore's going to send us back as soon as he can.'

'When hell freezes over,' Harry muttered under his breath; he could not help himself. But he twisted around to face forwards again. 'Where are they?'

Hermione pointed. James, Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew were confronting Snape, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but there. They seemed to be arguing. Harry jumped to his feet. Hermione followed him even as she said, 'Harry, I'm not sure this is a good idea …'

'Hermione, it's fine,' Harry said, blunter than he meant to. 'We're schoolmates now … I just want to take a look …'

'Well, look who it is,' James said loudly, as Harry and Hermione approached. 'Granger and … her Slytherin cousin. How're things going, Potter?' Sirius, handsomer than ever, was next to him. The pair was closely flanked by Lupin and Pettigrew. It looked as though James and Snape had been in the middle of a duel; Snape's lip was bloody and his wand was raised, but he hesitated as Harry and Hermione came.

'Fine,' Harry answered coolly, but before he could say anything more, Snape had shot a spell that missed both Harry and James by inches. Hermione jerked Harry out of the way as James yelled what was apparently some sort of levitation charm, for it sent Snape unceremoniously up into mid-air. Before he could retaliate, Sirius Disarmed him and caught Snape's wand. Snape looked outraged as he revolved slowly in the air, trying to get down.

'Why can't you leave him alone?' Hermione said to James and Sirius disgustedly. James shrugged, and pretended to count on his fingers.

'Hmmm … One, because he's a Slytherin; two, because he's a git; and three, because he happens to be Snivellus Snape.'

'That's no reason,' Harry retorted, without thinking. Snape's black eyes widened slightly as James rounded on Harry.

'Who appointed you judge, Potter?'

'Nobody,' Harry said, 'but that's still no call to pick on him.' He didn't know why he was doing this. Snape had betrayed them – by rights he should be leaving Snape to what he deserved. But something kept him standing there, even though he knew it was idiotic. 'Just leave him alone … Potter.'

'We're not doing  _anything_  to him,' James snorted. 'Just giving the slimy git what he deserves.'He looked at Harry almost curiously. 'What's wrong with you?' And before Harry could reply, he answered his own question: 'Oh yeah, I forgot you're a Slytherin.' He pronounced the name as though it were something filthy, the way Draco Malfoy, Harry realised, would have said the world 'Mudblood'. He pulled out his wand just as Hermione, realising what he was doing, grabbed his arm. 'Harry, no!' He shook her off.

 _'Rictusempra!'_  James shot a spell at Harry, who ducked, and, in a moment of inspiration, cried,  _'Aguamenti!'_  A jet of water shot out of the end of his wand and hit James in the chest, causing him to splutter and choke, his robes drenched. The next moment Sirius took advantage of the pause to hit Harry with a Stinging Jinx and Harry, to his dismay, found his arm covered in ugly red welts. His temper rose. 'That's cheating!'

Sirius laughed. 'Then what do you call  _your_  spell? What kind of wizard uses  _Aguamenti_  during a duel?'

'Well, it worked, didn't it?' Harry snapped. 'There's nothing wrong with a water charm! Two on one is unfair!'

'That's funny, I could have sworn you were a Slytherin, Potter,' came James's voice; he had managed to dry himself a bit, though his robes were still damp and his glasses were flecked with drops of water. 'You sound like a Hufflepuff to me.' The tone of his voice showed his disdain.

 _Surely he wasn't_ always _this – this_ arrogant _?_  Harry asked himself, and found he had no answer.  _Maybe he was. But why did my mum marry him then, if she liked Snape?_  It seemed odd to think that he could actually be called Harry Snape instead of Harry James Potter … or maybe they would have called him something completely different?  _Don't jump overboard_ , he told himself.  _Maybe he changed …_

'What's up with you, Potter?'

With a jerk, Harry brought himself back to the present. 'Nothing,' he said, trying not to rub at his arm, which was still stinging. 'I've had enough of you lot, that's all.' He turned and started climbing the hill towards the castle, but spun around when he heard a voice cry,  _'Petrificus Totalus!'_  He didn't have time to get out of the way: the spell hit him in the ribs and his arms snapped to his sides. He couldn't move a muscle, and was unable to stop himself falling backwards and rolling down the hill, faster and faster, until something cracked him on the head and he settled into a blissful unconsciousness.


	14. Secret Plans

Harry woke gradually, his ears becoming alert quicker than his other senses. He could hear arguing.

'What did you  _do_  to him?' a girl said furiously.

'It's only a Body-Bind Curse,' another cried petulantly. 'I wasn't aiming for him, you know – I was trying to hit James Potter! I didn't expect it to get Harry – or that he'd roll all the way down …'

 _'Finite Incantatem.'_  It was the same voice as the first, but now somebody was shaking him. 'Harry? Harry, wake up!'

'Wha–– what?' He sat up slowly, suddenly aware that he was covered in bruises. 'Damn … who did that?'

'I did,' said a small voice, and Harry turned to see Lily, her dark red hair falling down over her eyes. 'But I wasn't trying to hit you, I swear –'

'It's OK,' Harry told her, 'never mind.' He scrambled to his feet quickly – too quickly. The world spun around him and he swayed. Hermione grabbed him. 'Harry, you should see Madam Pomfrey.'

Harry suddenly realised who was missing as his brain started to catch up with him. 'Where'd the others go? And Snape?'

'Potter and his friends left,' Lily said in a hard voice. 'And Severus's there.' She tipped her head over towards a birch tree. Snape was leaning against it, watching the proceedings with a curious expression on his face.

Harry resisted the urge to swear under his breath. He felt oddly light-headed, and when he raised his hand to the back of his head, he could feel a lump swelling there. He looked slowly around, as sharp jolts of pain shot through his brain if he moved too quickly. He could see the place where they'd been standing before. _Man … I fell down the hill all that way?_  No wonder he'd been knocked out – he hadn't even been able to put his hands out to break his fall or shield his head.

 _I don't care what Hermione says, I'm going to get those idiots back_ , was his last though before his best friend dragged him off to the hospital wing.

* * *

While Madam Pomfrey insisted on checking up on him, Harry's brain was whirring with thoughts. He was sick of this; they had to get back to their own time, and the sooner the better. Dumbledore was working on a way for them to return, but there were still several small mysteries left unanswered. He spent a lot of time just sitting in the library or the common room, thinking about these.

Such as:

_How are Snape and my Mum friends?_

Well, he could always just ask them, but it would be too personal. The most likely answer was that they had simply met at school or on the train, but he doubted this a bit because they were in different houses.

_Why are my dad and his friends such prats?_

_If my dad was such a prat, and my mum hated him so much, how did they end up married?_

Harry hated the idea that his parents hadn't really been in love, but try as he might, he couldn't think of any other reason, other than that his father had changed, or his mother had gotten used to it. Maybe they hated each other when they were younger, but grew to love each other? Harry wasn't good at that kind of stuff, but he didn't want Hermione's help right now.

_Why did the Time-Turner send Hermione and me back in time?_

Mmm, tricky one. He supposed this had something to do with the Sorting Hat's challenge, which was to prove that he wasn't in Slytherin. Which prompted the next question:

_What do I have to do to prove I'm not in Slytherin?_

'Something worthy of a Gryffindor' was the obvious answer, but  _what?_

_Why did I never hear of Snape and my mum's relationship before now?_

_Well, it's not as if the Dursleys or Aunt Petunia would have told me anything_ , Harry reflected bitterly. But why not Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Lupin or Sirius? He mentally crossed out McGonagall (she had never told him anything about his parents other than that his dad had been an excellent Quidditch player), but Lupin and Dumbledore were still especially high on the list.

_If Snape hates me in our time because he hated my father, then why did he save my life in first year? Is it because of my mother, or another reason?_

_Can 'going back in time' mean that we didn't travel from the present to a fixed past, but from a possible future to the present? Does this mean we can change things in the future which have already happened, or not?_

This was the only question he discussed at length with Hermione. Hermione was adamant that the future –  _their_  future –was fixed, could not be changed because whatever they had done  _had already happened_. So they couldn't change things dramatically (i.e. make Peter Pettigrew, the traitor, 'disappear'), because future events wouldn't be able to happen without them. Harry was sure that they  _could_  change the future, partly because he  _wanted_  that to be the way the timeline worked. He wanted to take action, not stand around and wait for things to happen.

And then, suddenly, Harry knew what he was going to do.

It was time to pay a visit to the Chamber of Secrets.


	15. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 1

Actually, it wasn't a sudden, impulsive decision, unlike so many others Harry had made. He'd actually spent time thinking about things in his life that he'd rather have done without, and finally hit on the events that had happened leading up to his visit to the Chamber of Secrets.

Realistically, it was the only thing he could change. He couldn't prevent his parents' deaths; he couldn't stop Voldemort from possessing Quirrell; he couldn't warn his father, Sirius and Lupin about trusting Pettigrew; he couldn't even go up and punch the little rat in the nose. It wouldn't work. But he wanted to change what had happened in his second year, which was that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened by a remnant of Lord Voldemort's soul, and he'd nearly died. He had an idea that if he managed to get to the Basilisk in the Chamber before Riddle, possessing Ginny, did, then he might be able to convince it that he, not Riddle, was the Heir of Slytherin. He remembered Riddle had said something along the lines of, 'It only obeys me' about the giant snake, but maybe that was because it had been he, not Harry, who had first approached it.

Finding a time to get down there was the hard thing, but Harry was astonished to find out from Lily that there was going to be an impromptu Hogsmeade weekend to celebrate the end of the exams. Maybe Fate really was on Harry's side, after all. The school would be practically empty for the whole day, giving him plenty of time to get into the Chamber and back.

Back … here Harry hit a temporary snag. He remembered only too well the long, slime-filled pipe he, Lockhart and Ron had had to slide down to get to the Chamber, and the fact that they had only managed to get out again because Fawkes had towed them all up. He couldn't count on that this time. He and Hermione had discovered the hard way that you couldn't take anything from the Room of Requirement and then leave the room empty – it had to have somebody in there, keeping the Room as it was, otherwise the things you took would disappear. Since Harry hadn't told Hermione about his plan, he had no doubt that she would get suspicious if he asked her to stay in the Room of Requirement for hours while the rest of the castles was off celebrating. (Also, he told himself, that would be extremely selfish.) Instead, he borrowed a rope from Hagrid, avoiding the half-giant's questions about what he was going to use it for, and decided that that, along with his wand, was sufficient.

What about the Basilisk? Last time he'd met it, he'd stabbed it in the mouth with the Sword of Gryffindor, almost killing himself in the process. The sword he'd found in the Sorting Hat, which currently resided in Dumbledore's office, but it could have been in the Forbidden Forest for the zero access he had to it. Maybe he'd do the diplomatic thing and befriend the Basilisk instead of impaling it. Would talking to it be enough?

'Harry? Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade?' Lily came up, one of her elbows linked with Hermione's. The two of them got on surprisingly well, Harry had noticed.

'Huh? Oh, I … I don't know. Look, Lily, can I have a word? Alone?' Harry crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping Hermione wouldn't looked at him suspiciously. It didn't work.  _Come on, give it a rest, Hermione. Can't a bloke talk to his own_ mother _in private without getting weird looks?_

'OK,' Lily said amiably, dropping Hermione's arm and following Harry to a secluded corner. Once there, Harry said bluntly, 'What do you know about Basilisks?'

'Basilisks?' Lily repeated, taken aback. 'We haven't covered them in Potions or Defence, but I do know that they're giant snakes that can grow up to fifty feet long, and that their venom is extremely quick-acting.' She sounded a bit like Hermione, reciting almost word-for-word from a textbook. 'The cry of a rooster is fatal to them … spiders flee from them … they can only be controlled by Parselmouths …' She stopped, suddenly wary. 'What are you up to, anyway?'

'Just a project,' Harry said swiftly, mentally cursing the fact that his mother was so quick-minded.  _Just what I need._  'But I mean, what do you know  _about_  them? How they act and stuff? Or how to kill them? Other than with a rooster, I mean.'

'No,' Lily said slowly. 'What kind of project?'

Harry groaned silently. 'None of your business,' he said shortly.

Lily looked both hurt and angry. 'And you won't tell Hermione, either? Fine! I guess it's just the two of us going to Hogsmeade, then.'

'OK,' Harry said ungrudgingly, not particularly bothered. 'See you at dinner, then.'

Lily flounced off, spluttering.

* * *

 _All right … off we go_  … With a large coil of rope tucked inside his robes, his wand in his pocket and ruing the fact that he had no Invisibility Cloak, Harry made his way through corridors to the second-floor bathroom that was Moaning Myrtle's, the place where he had first met the thirteen-year-old Snape.  _Don't think that,_ he told himself irritably.  _Only focus on things you can change._

 _'Open,'_  he hissed softly at the tiny snake etched on one of the taps, the one Myrtle had told him an age ago never worked. The sinks slowly shifted aside to reveal a long, wide pipe going almost straight down. He tied the rope Hagrid had lent him securely to a few pipes, grasped it in his sweaty hands, climbed into the pipe, and then let go.

The coarse rope stung his numb hands as he fought to hold on, rubbing them raw – something he hadn't anticipated. Pretty soon he wasn't sitting up at all, but lying roughly on his stomach, hands over his head, clinging to the rope, his robes working themselves from his ankles to gather around his middle. Stale air rushing past his ears made him catch his breath as he slid down the pipe, which was thankfully cleaner and less slimy than the last time he'd been there.  _Guess this snake slime is thirty-something years old instead of less than a year._  Somehow the ride seemed a thousand times longer than he'd remembered.

When he reached the bottom, he had to shut his eyes for a moment to get his bearings, then he stood up, finally letting go of the rope (which was fortunately long enough), pushing down his robes, straightening his glasses and surveying his surroundings, while trying to ignore the pain in his palms. (He was almost wishing heartily that he'd skipped the rope bit, but practicalities had prevailed.) Memories of 1993 flooded through him: he'd been pumped full of adrenaline and a need to be a hero right then, when he'd journeyed down with Ron and Lockhart on a quest of sorts. He'd always been like that: trying to save the day, believing he was the hero, the one to save Hermione and Ginny (and, by extension, Ron), but he felt strangely level-headed this time around.

He had even more time to collect himself as he journeyed along the long, winding tunnel that led to the Chamber itself. When he at last reached the door with two emerald-eyed snakes on it, he took a deep breath to calm his shaken nerves.

 _'Open,'_  he hissed softly. The snakes wiggled and parted, and the door slid open soundlessly into the wall.

Harry kept on walking, nerves jangling, his footsteps seeming to echo loudly in the Chamber, until he saw  _it_  – the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

 _'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.'_ Harry did not bother to note how supercilious the command sounded – greatest of the Hogwarts Four indeed. He concentrated on staring at the ground just below the place where he knew the giant snake would come out of. Then –

 _'Who is it? Who disturbs Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets?'_ Even though Harry was carefully keeping his eyes downwards, he could see, as he edged to the side, an enormous snake come slithering out, its head shifting from side to side as it seemed to stretch its neck.


	16. The Chamber of Secrets, Part 2

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. The Basilisk was  _talking_  to him! He pulled himself together and tried to think of an answer, realising too late that he had no actual plan of what to do once inside the Chamber; he had been concentrating on getting in only.  _'One who speaks the noble tongue,'_  he replied smoothly in Parseltongue, mentally congratulating himself on his quick thinking.

 _'But are you the heir of Salazar Slytherin? Come closer, speaker … let me taste the air …'_  the Basilisk hissed, snaking towards Harry. A long, forked tongue twisted around him, almost touching him, and he tried not to shudder at the memory of a pale, curved Basilisk fang embedded in his arm.

_'It is strange … very strange …'_

_'What is strange?'_  Harry said curiously.

_'You have the Heir in you … but you are not the Heir … you speak the noble tongue … but this ability is not your own. There is darkness within you, but if you conquer it you will no longer have the Heir in you. You are like a riddle that needs to be understood to be destroyed. I do not understand you, young one.'_

Harry's mind was spinning uncomfortably fast. He had the Heir in him, but he wasn't the heir? Did that mean that  _Voldemort_ , the Heir of Slytherin, was inside him? Dumbledore had told him that Voldemort had transferred some of his powers to Harry the night he gave him his scar, but was there more to that story? And (most importantly) he had darkness within him?  _Oh no,_  he thought, suddenly afraid beyond anything he had known before.  _I can't have Voldemort inside me – I would have known – I_ can't _!_  The hedging explanations he had been so content with at ages eleven and twelve seemed so pathetic and and insubstantial now. And what had the Basilisk said about him being a riddle? He hoped that was just 'riddle' in the usual form, not 'riddle' as in Tom Marvolo Riddle.

_'I have instructions from Salazar Slytherin himself to destroy anyone who is not his Heir. But you … I am sorry, young speaker, but you are not the Heir of Slytherin, though he is within you. I must destroy you.'_

_'What – no!'_  Harry yelled in Parseltongue (which probably sounded odd to people who couldn't understand it), and dived out of the way just as the Basilisk lunged. He pulled out his wand as he came out of his roll, and tried to think of a spell to use.  _Bloody hell … don't they teach ANY useful spells to third-years?_  A Cheering Charm would be ridiculous,  _Engorgio_  would be just asking for trouble and he couldn't use  _Locomotor Mortis_  because the stupid thing didn't have any legs.  _'Petrificus Totalus!'_  His spellwork was impaired by the fact that he had to be careful not to look the giant snake in the eyes, and the Basilisk only hesitated for a moment.

It seemed like an endless round of turning, ducking and diving, occasionally shooting random spells at the Basilisk. His eyes watered as he gripped his wand in his scraped hand … this  _really_  wasn't what he had bargained for …

 _'Diffindo!'_  His Severing Curse missed the Basilisk by inches, but then suddenly the snake dived at him again, so quickly that he wasn't sure he'd be able to get out of the way in time …

* * *

'What did Harry want to talk to you about?' Hermione asked Lily cautiously, as the two of them walked around Hogsmeade, revelling in the brilliant sunshine.

'Weird stuff,' Lily said huffily. 'He wanted to ask me about Basilisks, and I told him, but then he wouldn't answer when I asked why he wanted to know. I mean, I –'

'Did you say  _Basilisks_?' Hermione turned to stare at Lily, who nodded.

'Yeah, I did – what's up?' For the other girl had stopped in her tracks.

'Just surprised at his choice of subject,' Hermione said coolly.  _Basilisks? Didn't I_ tell _you, Harry – you can't change things in the past, because it's already happened!_  She fervently hoped that Harry hadn't gone to the Chamber of Secrets (the only place she knew a Basilisk resided), and that he was simply curious, though she knew it was unlikely. Especially since he'd specifically asked Lily instead of going to her, as he usually would.  _Don't be an idiot, Harry –_ think _before you dive headlong into an adventure for a change!_  Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Harry at all since breakfast that morning. Hmm …

* * *

This was a rather unfair view of events from Hermione, as she wasn't to know how long Harry had really spent planning a visit to the Chamber of Secrets. But Harry couldn't care less what Hermione was thinking at that moment – he was too busy dodging a Basilisk.

Just then the Basilisk swerved at Harry, who jumped backwards and tripped over a rock, his wand flying out of his hands. His eyes were fixed on the ground so he didn't see the snake, a look of triumph in its deadly yellow eyes, rear forwards and latch one of its fangs just below his ribs before wrenching it out with a horrible twist and slithering away, hissing.

Harry screamed, realising what had happened as soon as he felt the agonising pain spreading out from his midriff.  _Not again!_  And there was no Fawkes to save him now … maybe Fawkes didn't help people who had been Sorted into Slytherin House …  _déjà vu_  was flooding through his slowing mind as he struggled to sit up, to no avail.  _I'm going to die_ , was his frank thought just before the world exploded in streaks of red and gold and he found himself flying head-over-heels, backwards.

* * *

_What the hell … I'm not dead?_

Those were Harry's first thoughts when he awoke to find himself still in the Chamber of Secrets, his head aching abominably. His eyes widened as he remembered the sight of the Basilisk looming over him, then striking. His fingers scrabbled feverishly at the front of his robes, but, apart from an ugly, jagged hole in the front of his robes, it was as if the wound had never existed. There was no blood, no hole or even a scar to show where the fang had entered his body, and – and Harry had only just become aware of this one – none of the horrible pain that had been present earlier.

_What was going on?_

He pulled himself slowly to his feet, and in the process of doing so, discovered that he was –  _ouch_  – covered in bruises. Maybe he really had flown backwards head-over-heels. He'd thought it had simply been a violent explosion that had forced him backwards, or his imagination, but in retrospect, he had no idea what had happened. The Chamber bore no trace of damage other than what the Basilisk had done by thrashing around. And talking of the Basilisk …

'Erm …  _close_?' Harry said hesitantly, trying to shut Salazar Slytherin's gaping mouth to stop the Basilisk escaping on its own. Fortunately the mouth of the most famous Parselmouth ever shut, leaving the statue as Harry had found it.

Harry felt like kicking himself. He'd messed up so badly he didn't know where to begin. The only real thing he could do right now would be to get out of the Chamber and wait like a good little boy until Dumbledore gave him and Hermione a Time-Turner to get back home. How anticlimactic. That wasn't what heroes were supposed to do! They were supposed to save the day and everybody, preferably from a horrible fate. Instead, it looked as though Fate was making up its own mind.

He found, after a bit of stumbling about and staring at the floor, his wand, and mended the front of his robes with a clumsy  _Reparo_. Practical charms weren't really his forte; maybe he'd drop in by the Room of Requirement and try again there. Right now he needed to get out of here.

Back through the long, winding passage he went, after sealing the emerald-eyed snakes' door. His hands were still smarting and his head ached, but he had no idea how long he had spent in the Chamber, and he had to get out as quickly as possible.

Harry emerged in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, panting, after pulling himself up the rope he had left there. He hoisted it up and twisted it into a sort of messy coil. Thank goodness there was nobody else around. Another  _'close'_  and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was concealed once more, and Harry found himself staring at his unkempt reflection in a mirror.


	17. Some Secrets Are Hard to Hide

After hurriedly getting rid of the worst of the muck he'd collected, Harry made a brief trip to the Room of Requirement, where he temporarily stowed Hagrid's rope, to be returned at a later date. The trip to Hogsmeade was an all-day one, and Harry hadn't seen anybody except first- and second-years milling around the corridors, so he guessed it was sometime in the afternoon. A check of the time in the Room confirmed this – it was half past five.

He took a shower and then spent the rest of the time before dinner in the library. He was just about to go down to the Great Hall when a voice hissed in his ear, _'Where have you been?'_

Harry spun around and there was Hermione, looking both angry and worried, and fortunately alone. He didn't think he could have stood two girls going off at him for whatever they thought he'd done.

'What?' Harry said stupidly.

'Don't play the fool,' Hermione said coolly. 'Why all the secret business? Why all the badgering me about changing the past? Why all the not-going-into-Hogsmeade-with-us thing? Why all the asking-Lily-about-Basilisks-instead-of-me stuff?'

Put that way, it seemed that Harry had been ridiculously lax in trying to hide things from Hermione. Especially when she was the smartest witch he knew, and had figured out things (like Professor Lupin's being a werewolf, for instance) only based on far-flung clues and references.

'Why don't you tell  _me_  what you think I did, if you've figured it all out?' Harry said impatiently, slightly annoyed, both at himself and Hermione.

'Fine,' said Hermione tartly. 'I think you went down and opened the Chamber of Secrets – putting the  _whole school_  at risk, I might add (what if the monster had gotten out?) – and tried to either kill the Basilisk or make friends with it, both of which are very idiotic things to do. I think I know what happened – you must have not been able to kill the snake, because it still had to be alive in our second year, and either locked it in the Chamber of Secrets (escaping with extraordinary luck) or accidentally set it free, which means that the whole school  _is_  at risk, though that doesn't seem likely either – _why are you laughing?'_  She looked, irked, down at her best friend, who was slumped in his chair shaking with laughter. Then she grabbed the nearest book and smacked Harry on the head lightly with it. Harry stopped laughing at once.

'You've never done that to  _me_  before,' he said, grinning, rubbing his head. Hermione had unintentionally hit a sore spot, and it hurt more than he was going to let on.

'Maybe I should do it more often,' Hermione said sternly. 'Especially _if you don't tell me why you were laughing at me.'_

Harry snapped up in his seat guiltily. 'It's nothing,' he said, still grinning. 'Except that you were right in every single respect – you really are brilliant, Hermione.'

'Thank you,' Hermione said, with dignity. 'So, did I hear you right? You went down to the Chamber of Secrets, confronted the Basilisk but didn't kill it, and escaped with your life, bruises and scraped palms?'

'Sort of,' Harry said. He told her the full story, including the bit where there was what he took to be an explosion and he passed out, but skipping the bit where the Basilisk told him he had the Heir in him but he wasn't the Heir, implying that the Basilisk had simply decided to be antagonistic. As soon as he got back to 1994, he was going to confront Dumbledore about what the Basilisk had said, and he wasn't going to take 'you're too young to understand' as an answer. 'And my hands weren't from the Basilisk – it's, er, rope burn from climbing up the pipe.'

'Still! What were you  _thinking_ , Harry, you could have been  _killed_! I  _warned_  you, didn't I …' Then Hermione trailed off with a helpless expression on her face, pushed the table Harry was sitting at aside and enveloped him in a bear hug. 'Just  _think_  about what you're doing before you dash off on a crazy adventure, will you?'

'I  _did_  think,' Harry said indignantly, as Hermione finally released him. 'All right, I missed a couple of bits, but it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing, I had a plan.'

'Yes, but it didn't –' Hermione began, but then another voice intruded into their conversation: the voice of a girl with dark red hair and brilliant green eyes.

' _There_  you are, Hermione – and Harry, where've you been? Never mind, I've got a message from Dumbledore for you two. He says to report to his office right now. Do you know where it is?'

Harry nodded. 'What about the password to get past the gargoyle?'

Lily turned slightly pink. 'It's  _draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_. You'd better go; he said as soon as possible.'

* * *

 _'Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.'_  The gargoyle stepped smoothly aside, just as it had for Lily and Snape, and Harry and Hermione stepped onto the moving staircase.

'Weird thing to have as a password,' Harry commented, as they rose higher and higher. 'But then last time I was here, it was "sherbet lemon".'

Hermione gave him the kind of look she gave Ron when he said something stupid (usually about homework). 'It's not weird at all – it's the Hogwarts motto.'

'Right,' Harry murmured. The staircase reached the top and the two of them stepped onto the landing. Hermione knocked, but there was no answer.

'Should we go in?' she whispered to Harry.

'He did say  _as soon as possible_ ,' Harry said, justifying any wrongdoing they might be doing upon entering Dumbledore's study without explicit permission. He tried the handle, and the door opened.

Hermione sucked in her breath as she surveyed the enormous study – she had never been in it before, as far as Harry knew. He saw Fawkes sitting innocently on his perch, a magnificent display of red and gold feathers. Then he saw the Sorting Hat, on a shelf near him – and lifted it down.

'Harry! What are you doing?' Hermione gasped, scandalised.

'Just checking something. Can you keep a lookout?'

She gave him a disapproving look, but acquiesced, and Harry triumphantly put the Sorting Hat on his head.

'Ah … Mr Potter.'

'Present,' Harry thought cheekily. The next moment his heart clanged in his chest as he heard the Hat say, 'I never thought I would say this, but I was wrong about you.'


	18. The Sorting Hat's First Mistake

'What?' was Harry's elegant comment.

'I was wrong about you, Mr Potter. To my chagrin, it's the first time I have ever mis-Sorted a student. You belong in Gryffindor, not Slytherin. Your actions earlier today proved that.'

'How?'

'That's what Gryffindors do, Mr Potter,' said the Hat. 'They are brave and willing to risk everything for their friends. Yes, you were a good candidate for Slytherin, but a Slytherin would never have run head-first into trouble without first closing all the loopholes with the cunning that befits them. You are a Gryffindor, because you are willing to change the world, not let the world change you. Have you ever thought about why Gryffindor and Slytherin get more glory than the other houses? And yet Gryffindor has a much healthier reputation than Slytherin. Why? I have observed many, many students over the years, Mr Potter, and I have come to this conclusion: Gryffindors are non-conformists, the ones who would rather be the right ones standing in a crowd of wrong than blend in, whereas Slytherins tend to slide into the mould the world has set for them. Yes, Slytherin House has a bad reputation, but truthfully enough it starts out with the same number of bad apples than the other houses. It is simply that the rest of the house does not stand up for itself, does not resist the efforts of the world to change their ideals. They conform, and it becomes their downfall.'

'Wow,' Harry thought, awed at this rather long-winded, yet impressive-sounding speech. 'So, I'm a Gryffindor. Anything else?'

'Just … you are a very interesting character, Mr Potter. I wish you good luck for the future, and don't forget what I said about Gryffindor and Slytherin.' With that, the Sorting Hat fell silent and Harry took it off his head and put it back on its shelf.

'Just in time,' was Hermione's whispered comment as Dumbledore came out of a door at the back of the office that presumably led to his private chambers. 'Ah, there you are, Mr Potter and Miss Granger. I have some good news for you.'

 _And I've got a question for you_ , Harry thought wryly.  _But I won't ask you now. Maybe I'll wait twenty more years._  'What is it, Professor?'

'I have managed to procure a specially modified Time-Turner for you two,' Dumbledore told them. 'It is advisable to go back to your own time as soon as possible – perhaps after dinner would be good. It would give you enough time to collect any belongings and say goodbye. Would that be agreeable to you two?'

Harry and Hermione both nodded.

'Then I will expecting both of you back here at eight o'clock tonight,' Dumbledore said, and Harry and Hermione took this as their cue to leave.

* * *

'Harry, where're you going? It's dinnertime.'

'I won't be long. I'll see you there,' Harry said to Hermione, and he was halfway to the Room of Requirement before he realised that they wouldn't really have a chance to see each other at dinner anyway, being at different House tables. Oh, well.

He retrieved Hagrid's rope and dashed back through the castle, diving into secret passages whenever he could to cut down on time. A growl from his stomach gave him an uncomfortable reminder that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

'Hagrid! Hagrid!' Harry found himself pounding at the wooden door of Hagrid's hut before he realised that he didn't know Hagrid well enough here to do that. Wow,  _awkward_.

'Al' righ', al' righ', I'm comin'!' The door was opened by the cheerful half-giant, who had a bemused look on his face as he looked down at Harry. 'What're yeh doing here – Harry, isn' it? It's dinnertime, yeh know.'

'Yes, I know, I'm sorry, but I needed to return your rope,' Harry said breathlessly, clutching his aching ribs. 'I'm leaving Hogwarts this evening.'

'Leavin'? You're one of the transfer students, aren' yeh? I remember yeh now. C'mon in, then … and how come yeh're leavin' now? The Hogwarts Express does'n' leave 'til tomorrow, righ'?'

'Yeah, but Hermione and I have to leave early – we've got an important, er,  _appointment_.' Harry edged inside the cabin he knew so well, and sat down at the wooden table. Hagrid had obviously been in the middle of dinner; an enormous plate of half-eaten food that Harry didn't recognise was on the table, along with a cup the size of a bucket. He was half-glad Hermione wasn't there; she was the one who had proposed not getting too acquainted with him. (Harry privately thought Hagrid wasn't likely to remember two students who had visited Hogwarts for only a few weeks one year, and then identify them with another two students twenty years later as the same ones. It was all too far-fetched.)

'I'd better go,' Harry said finally, standing up and trying to smile at Hagrid. 'Goodbye, Hagrid – and thanks for all your help.'

' 'S no problem, Harry,' Hagrid said cheerfully, a grin just visible inside his bushy beard. 'Goo' luck, an' maybe we'll see each other sometime.'

_Yeah … like in twenty years' time._

* * *

Fortunately for his grumbling stomach, Harry arrived at the Great Hall midway through dinner and half-collapsed into a seat at the Slytherin table. His spirits were high as he grabbed a drumstick and some salad and attacked the food ravenously.

'You OK?' asked one of the Slytherin boys nearby, staring at him.

'I'm fine,' Harry said automatically. The boy looked like he wanted more information, so Harry added, 'Just bushed.' He could feel Hermione's eyes boring into his back. Sighing, he stood up and went over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione was sitting next to Lily.

'Hermione, when –' he began, intending to ask her when they were due to leave. But he was cut off by Dumbledore's voice, magically magnified, talking from the front of the Hall.

'Your attention please,' Dumbledore said pleasantly. 'Tonight we are saying goodbye to two transfer students, who are leaving Hogwarts a day early to return to their own school. If Mr Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger could please stand up.'

Caught off guard, Harry straightened as Hermione stood up. He hated the attention as everybody's heads turned to look at him and his 'cousin'. He'd never liked the fame attached to being the Boy Who Lived, and it had been a pleasant change to be a nobody for a few weeks.

Harry tuned out as Dumbledore continued, presumably waffling about what an honour it had been, blah blah blah, to have transfer students at Hogwarts … and how he hoped they had had a good time, yada yada yada …  _Yeah. Whatever. At least you're not giving us awards for Special Services to the School and four hundred house points this time._


	19. Only a Seer Could Have Foreseen

He'd had that dream again; the same one as before. Snape pushed his hands to his forehead, trying to remember …

_It's not Potter, it's Harry …_

_It was the end of the exams, and he'd been running away from those gits, Potter and Black and their mates. He went into a girls' bathroom on the second floor that he knew nobody used and hid …_

_Pretty soon he was sure the coast was clear, but before he could leave, two students, a boy and a girl, walked in, entered one of the cubicles and started talking. Talking about things that Severus didn't understand – 'Time-Turners' and the 'fall of You-Know-Who'. What were they talking about? You-Know-Who was still going strong … unfortunately, and Hogwarts was in danger …_

_But then he reached a decision – he opened the door of the cubicle he was in just as the girl pushed open the other door – and there they were, face to face, and that was where the dream was interrupted by his present self – because he was intruding on his own dream, sure he had seen the boy's face before … why did it look so familiar now? They'd been time travelling … he hadn't known who he was_ then _, but now he knew …_

_Harry Potter …_

_It was Harry, the son of James Potter and the love of his life, Lily Evans. It was Potter who had travelled twenty years back in time accidentally, with his friend Miss Granger, falling into a glitch only a Seer could have foreseen …_

_And now he knew – knew for the first time who it had been. The boy had had a scar – a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, he was sure of it. There was only one person on earth who had a scar like that, one person in history who had survived the world's most dangerous curse …_

_And he, Severus Snape, had betrayed them after Potter and Miss Granger had trusted him, forced him not to tell Professor Dumbledore, and he had said that he wanted to repay the boy, but it was too late, they had already gone back to their own time … Now that was twenty years ago, and Lily was no longer around to remind him of his promise …_

* * *

'You will need to turn it over a little less than four times, to the mark I made,' Dumbledore instructed them firmly. ' _Not_  exactly four times. And I want both of you to promise me that you will destroy it as soon as you can.'

Hermione nodded seriously, but Harry was barely listening. Four turns meant twenty years … two turns meant ten years … one turn would mean five years. If he _accidentally_  turned it over once, he could visit himself at age eighteen. He shivered at the thought. He'd had enough of time travel, he thought. For now, anyway.

'Mr Potter?' Dumbledore's voice jerked Harry back to the present (or rather, the past). He tried to listen as Dumbledore talked.

'By the way, Mr Snape and Miss Evans would like to bid goodbye to you,' he said, as Snape and Lily walked in. 'After all, they may not see you again.'

Harry nodded. His anger with Snape had quite evaporated after the close shave he'd had in the Chamber. He shook Snape's hand. 'Bye, mate.' Maybe they would never be friends, after all James Potter had done, but still …

Lily hugged Hermione and then turned to Harry and gave him a one-armed hug. 'Goodbye,' she whispered in his ear, fiddling with something in her robes with her other hand as she spoke. Then she broke away and Dumbledore handed Hermione another Time-Turner.

'This is the one that you used to travel here,' Dumbledore told her. 'I suggest you hand it in to a teacher as soon as possible.'

Hermione nodded.

'So … goodbye,' Dumbledore said tiredly. 'I also suggest you take out your wand, Mr Potter … just in case.' Harry pulled his out of his pocket. Then Hermione draped the fine golden chain of the Time-Turner that was around her neck around Harry's as well, took it, and turned it over once – twice – three times – four –

The room began to spin very fast. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and Harry had the sensation that he was being pushed forwards by an invisible force, dizzying him … After a few moments, their surroundings came into focus.

They were standing in the Entrance Hall.

Hermione threw the chain off Harry's neck. Harry was experiencing a curious sense of  _déjà vu_. It was a very funny feeling.

Together, almost as if they had read each other's minds, they moved to the doors and pulled them open.

The sun was setting. Three figures were standing at the door to Hagrid's hut: three very familiar figures …

'That's us!' Hermione cried.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was all right again. He stowed his wand away in his pocket.

In his pocket was a letter.

> _30 June, 1974_
> 
> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _Thanks for letting us help you and Hermione get back to your own time. That's your problem, really – you always want to do things yourself – and that isn't always a good idea if you ask me! By the way, did you really mean it when you said you knew him in the future?_
> 
> _I'm so glad we could help. I was the one who convinced Severus to tell Dumbledore, so please don't blame him. At first he didn't want to, but then I said you two couldn't live in the Room of Requirement forever. I know how you felt when we walked in with Dumbledore like that, after we'd promised. I hate breaking promises, but it turned out all right this time. Severus said that it was a pity that he couldn't pay you back, as he felt he owed you one for betraying you like that. Well, he didn't actually say it, but we've been friends so long – he was the one who told me I was a witch – that it's not hard to tell what he's thinking._
> 
> _I understand now why you couldn't tell us anything much about yourselves. Sorry for giving you such a difficult time, but I was curious! I also feel like I have to thank you – both of you! – for the adventure you gave us. I've always wanted to be a magnet for trouble like you are._
> 
> _See you sometime (maybe),_
> 
> _Lily Evans (your mother, as you well know!)_
> 
> _P. S. When you get time, ask the Room of Requirement for the 'place where all things are hidden' (the Room of Hidden Things), look for a book called_  Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Kenilworthy Whisp – surely you've heard of it? – and check inside the dust jacket. The book should be on top of a crate, along with a bust of an ugly warlock. Beside the crate on one side should be a stack of old newspapers._
> 
> _P. P. S. You don't have to destroy this letter if you don't want to._  I  _recommend you don't. Souvenirs are good to keep. So are promises. And secrets. L. E._

Harry read the letter slowly, carefully, savouring it like a half-remembered memory, hardly daring to breathe. She did know about him; for how long had she known? The secrets were buried in the past with her – he would probably never know. He skimmed it again – ' _I also feel like I have to thank you – both of you! – for the adventure you gave us. I've always wanted to be a magnet for trouble like you are.'_  It reminded him of something he'd said to Hermione at the start of the school year:  _'I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds_ me _.'_

'Harry, are you all right?' Hermione came to his shoulder. Her eyes widened as she recognised the neat handwriting on the paper. He held it out to her. She read it, suddenly misty-eyed.

'Harry, that's … that's –'

'I know.' He took it as she handed it back. 'I've never had a letter from my mother before.'

'She knew.'

'Yes,' he said quietly.

'For how long?'

'I don't know,' he answered. 'Maybe she suspected ever since the day she mistook me for my father and Snape said, "It's not Potter, it's Harry."'

'Yes, probably.'

They were silent for a moment. Then Harry said suddenly, 'What about Sirius – and Buckbeak?'

Hermione gasped. 'Hurry up!' she cried, hurrying down the castle's front steps and half walking, half running down the hill. He sprinted after her. 'What time is it?'

As if her watch would show the right time! She turned to him as he caught up and they cautiously sneaked round Hagrid's hut, listening, awed, to the voices within.


	20. The Patronus Light

Hermione shrieked from inside the hut and Harry started; he'd forgotten the details of what had happened; it seemed so long ago.

'Listen,' Hermione whispered as they edged away and hid themselves behind a clump of trees. 'That scream means I just found Scabbers, so pretty soon we're going to come out the back door and Dumbledore and the others will come to the front. So –'

'How do you know?'

'I  _remember_ , Harry!' Hermione hissed exasperatedly. 'As soon as we rush into the Forest and Dumbledore and the others see Buckbeak tethered and then go in to see Hagrid, we need to do it.'

'Do – what?' Harry asked, completely lost.

'Free Buckbeak, of course! Look, here we come now …' They made sure they were carefully concealed, Harry watching open-mouthed as he saw himself, Ron, clutching a struggling Scabbers and Hermione edging out the back door and into the pumpkin patch.

'This is really weird,' Harry muttered. (Coming from somebody who'd accidentally travelled back in time and met his own parents when they were his age, this seemed pretty rich.)

'Shh!'

Dumbledore, Fudge and the executioner, Macnair, were entering Hagrid's hut. Harry could hear a babble of voices from inside.

Hermione was watching their other selves nervously. It was very strange to be seeing himself there, running after Ron, who was chasing Scabbers, in the direction of the Whomping Willow …

Hermione elbowed him. 'OK, now,' she whispered.

Harry left their hiding place and edged towards the pumpkin patch. He was all too aware that the voices in the hut had ceased suddenly, and was determined to free Buckbeak as quickly as possible. He approached the Hippogriff and bowed nervously, hoping it would sense him impatience and cooperate. To his relief, Buckbeak bowed imperiously back, and Harry went closer, as quickly as he dared, and began with fumbling fingers to untie the knot that tied Buckbeak to a tree. The voices began again, and he breathed easier.

'Hurry up!' Hermione mouthed at him, her pale face appearing from behind another tree. Her apprehensive eyes were fixed on Hagrid's hut.

Harry pulled with growing impatience at the knot. It stubbornly refused to undo. The tension was mounting. 'Come on!' he hissed.

Apparently unable to stop herself, Hermione dashed towards him, pulling out her wand.  _'Releashio!'_  she whispered, pointing it at the knot. It came undone and slithered to the ground in coils around the tree.

Harry grabbed it. 'Come on,' he hissed at Buckbeak, who hadn't yet realised he was free. He pulled gently on the rope. Buckbeak followed him towards the Forbidden Forest. Hermione led them to a place where they could see the entrance to the Whomping Willow and Shrieking Shack, but not be seen. They tied Buckbeak to a tree and sat down to wait.

* * *

It was over an hour later when Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs and pointed to the Whomping Willow. Figures were emerging out of the entrance at the roots – Ron, chained to Pettigrew; Hermione and Lupin, the latter guiding an unconscious Snape with his wand; and himself and Sirius bringing up the rear. Memories flooded through Harry as he watched: it had been then that Sirius had offered him the prospect of leaving the Dursleys forever and living with him. How happy he'd been …

It had all been Pettigrew's fault, Harry thought. If the man had actually had some backbone, he wouldn't have betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort, which would mean that Harry would actually  _have_  his parents, and Sirius wouldn't have had to spend twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. If it hadn't been for Pettigrew, Harry wouldn't be the Boy Who Lived.

But that wasn't right, Harry realised suddenly. Sure, it had been Pettigrew who betrayed his parents, but he betrayed them to Voldemort. In the end, it all came down to Voldemort – the single person who had ruined Harry's life and condemned them both to a high and lonely destiny.

'Harry!'

Harry jumped. Hermione was pointing to Ron … no, to Lupin, who was – Harry's stomach clenched in horror – transforming into a werewolf.  _Oh no oh no oh no_  … ' Hermione, we've got to go!'

'Harry, I already told you, we  _can't_  –'

'– just  _listen_ , Hermione – Lupin's going to come right at us!'

Hermione sucked in her breath. She tended to panic in dire situations, Harry noticed, whereas he actually fuctioned better when he was under high pressure. If anything, his thoughts would become clearer. He grabbed her arm and directed her away. 'Leave Buckbeak here, he'll be fine, let's just  _go_!'

Harry had no conscious idea where they were really going, but he was panting when they reached the lake. Dementors were swooping closer and closer towards a small group on the other side of the lake; he could feel their chill and held his breath until they passed, then felt instantly ashamed of himself. He could cast a Patronus, couldn't he?

He felt suddenly cold, staggered and lost his balance as images that were not his own flickered through his brain, impeding his vision – pictures from the inside …

_And then he was Snape and he was coming round after Potter had insolently disarmed him and knocked him out. He came to the edge of the lake, where glimmers of light where shimmering over the water, which turned icy cold as hundreds of Dementors swooped over it …_

'Harry?' Hermione said, as he stumbled. 'Are you all right? What happened?'

He shut his eyes and shook his head to clear it; the images blurred and disappeared, but the sense of dizziness that had come over him as soon as he left Snape's mind did not. He pulled himself up slowly, saying nothing more than, 'I'm OK, Hermione.'

It was like a half-forgotten dream. There was the lake again, and the Dementors – and there was he, Harry, with Sirius and Hermione, all on the far side of the lake, trying desperately to ward off the Dementors. But he couldn't do it. They were coming closer and closer, and then –

What was happening to him? Again the images swam hazily in front of Harry's eyes, as if he were seeing things as somebody else. This time he breathed in and out slowly, trying to control himself as his mind switched between two people's point of view like an old television once again …

_He made a split-second decision; he knew what he must do …he left the bushes and the rocks and the trees of the Forbidden Forest, pulled his wand out from under his cloak and raised it high, thinking of Lily, and the wonderful way she laughed …_

'Expecto patronum!'

 _And then a silver doe burst out from the end of the wand – Lily's doe – it cantered towards the Dementors, scattering them and causing them to flee …And he closed his eyes as emotion welled over him and through him … he had not cast a Patronus for a long time, so long, ever since_ _Lily …_

'Oh my –' said Hermione, jerking Harry back to himself. She was pointing to just a few metres in front of them, right at the edge of the lake. There was a figure there that was half-illuminated by the light of an enormous Patronus that it had conjured: a big, four-legged creature –  _a doe,_ Harry remembered thinking _, or a stag –_

It wasn't a stag – it was a doe. It was a doe, and a tall, dark figure loomed up behind it, a mere silhouette to the figures behind it, but as it was barely two metres in front of them, Harry could tell who it was …

'But – but that's Snape!' he whispered. Now he knew whose eyes he had been seeing through, flickering between his own, though he did not know why. 'A doe – a  _doe_  …' The pieces were clicking into place: his father's Patronus had been a stag, he was sure of it, like his … and Snape's was a doe, like – like –

'Lily,' he whispered.

Faster and faster the images changed; he was Harry … no, he was Snape … he was Harry, and he was trying to exercise some control over the connection linking Snape's mind with his as he approached the Patronus, knowing Snape would not see him …

_His eyes were closed and he was deaf to the world; he did not hear the crackling behind him as two figures stepped out of the shadows; he did not see, could not see, as Harry unbelievingly, wonderingly, stretched out his hand to greet the Patronus as it glided home …_

Somewhere, somehow, Lily Evans was there that night, watching over her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credit: John Williams' score for the corresponding scene in the film  
> Reference credit: _The Magician's Nephew_ by C. S. Lewis ('a high and lonely destiny')


	21. After Twenty Years

Harry felt like he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene, but all too quickly, the Patronus faded as the Dementors scattered. Snape turned around and Hermione pulled Harry back into the shadows as he passed within a few feet of them and disappeared into the darkness – presumably to the other side of the lake to conjure stretchers for Harry, Ron and Hermione, who by now would be all unconscious.

The images in Harry's mind blurred and disappeared; he put his hands to his forehead, leaning against a tree, and sank to the ground, breathing hard. He had never felt so tired in his life.

Hermione felt him slide down next to her. 'What's the matter? What's wrong?' she asked, kneeling beside him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to quench the dizziness. It dissolved slowly, leaving him drained and exhausted. It didn't help that he hadn't eaten anything since he'd had breakfast before entering the Chamber of Secrets. 'I'm fine,' he said hesitantly, though he didn't feel it. 'I –'

'What is it? Was it the Dementors? I didn't see –'

'I'm fine,' Harry repeated, even though he was feeling weak and shivery. With an enormous effort, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the tree trunk for support. The warmth of the Patronus had gone, leaving him cold and, ironically, drenched in sweat.

'If you really are all right, we've got to get back to Buckbeak and rescue Sirius,' Hermione said practically, partly to get Harry's attention and partly because they really did need to. She took Harry's arm and guided him away from the lake. 'Remember?'

'Yeah …'

They untied Buckbeak from his tree and were leading him out of the Forest when Hermione said, 'Why do you think he did it?'

Harry hadn't thought about it, but as soon as he opened his mouth he knew the answer. 'He was repaying me because he betrayed us. Lily said that he wanted to in the letter.'

'But why did he take so long? Twenty years …'

'He's taken nearly as long before,' Harry reminded her. 'Dumbledore told me once that Snape saved my life in first year so that he would be on even footing with my father, because my father saved his life once – that time when Sirius played a trick on him at the Shrieking Shack. I guess he really did know who I was after all – or Lily told him. Maybe he did it for her, because he loved her, I know he did.'

'So maybe that was the reason we went back in time. So that Snape would save your life, because he owed you something.'

Harry nodded wordlessly. There was a lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking even if he'd wanted to.  _It was Snape_ , he thought.  _Snape – and all this time I never knew._

'How do you know? It's like you're – you're reading his mind or something …'

They mounted Buckbeak, Hermione holding a bit too tightly for comfort onto Harry's waist as they left the ground. 'Maybe I can,' Harry said over the beating of the Hippogriff's wings. 'Where's Sirius?'

'I can't remember exactly, but I think one of the windows to the right of the West Tower. What makes you think so?'

'Because,' Harry yelled back, as Buckbeak gained speed and the wind whipped through their hair, 'When we were standing near him, at the lake, I could tell what he was feeling –  _feel_  what he was feeling – like I've got a sixth sense or something.'

'What was he thinking of, to cast such a bright Patronus?'

Harry knew, but he had to swallow several times before he answered. 'My mother.'

'Maybe you've got an empathy link. I've read about them, and …' The rest of Hermione's sentence was lost in the wind as a chill swept through them.

'Maybe.'

'So, when you thought it was your dad casting the Patronus, it was really –?'

'Snape … The person I saw was  _me_ , but I  _thought_  it was my father, see? Where's the West Tower?'

'Just here … tell Buckbeak to slow down …'

'Whoa, Buckbeak, whoa!' Harry yelled, leaning down to make sure Buckbeak could hear him. Buckbeak slowed down obediently and they counted the windows, looking in each one just to make sure.

'Stop – stop! This one!' Hermione shrieked in Harry's ear when they came to the thirteenth window. Sirius was inside, in Professor Flitwick's office. His eyes widened when he caught sight of them.

'Wha––' he gasped.

'Sirius, come on,' Harry called, as Sirius hurried over to the window. Hermione opened it with her wand and, but Sirius stood at the sill, still gaping.

'Hurry up!' Hermione moaned, glancing at her watch before remembering it was hopelessly inaccurate. She edged closer to Harry to allow room on the Hippogriff. Sirius clambered out of the window and behind Hermione as Harry whispered to Buckbeak, 'OK, go!'

'Harry, take him up to the tower,' Hermione called, gripping his waist again. Harry jerked Buckbeak around, back the way they came and towards the West Tower. Buckbeak landed with a flash of his talons in the bright full moon, and Hermione let go of Harry's waist at last as they slid off.

'Go, Sirius, go!' Harry said, reaching up to pat Buckbeak. Sirius, however, did not move.

'Where's the other boy – Ron?'

'He – he's fine,' Harry answered, hoping it was the truth for Ron's sake. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Ron for weeks. 'Just – go!'

Buckbeak shifted his wings impatiently. Then Sirius grinned suddenly. 'You two made enough noise on that Hippogriff to wake the dead.'

Harry cracked a smile. 'Sirius, please –'

Sirius sat up on the Hippogriff carefully, but still looked down at Harry. 'How can I thank you – you – truly are your father's son, Harry –' Before Harry could reply, Sirius nudged Buckbeak and Buckbeak kicked off from the tower, his enormous wings beating furiously. Sirius's final words came floating back to Harry on the wind: 'We'll see each other again someday …'


	22. The Room of Hidden Things

They got back to the hospital wing just as Professor Dumbledore was saying, 'It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.' Then he closed the door and locked it. Harry and Hermione rushed up to him, panting. Harry was sure he had never been so tired in his life.

Dumbledore looked down on then with twinkling eyes. 'Well?' he said.

'We did it,' Harry said. 'Sirius escaped on Buckbeak.' Hermione nodded, her eyes bright.

'But it was more than that … wasn't it?' Dumbledore asked quietly. 'Miss Granger, why didn't you tell Professor McGonagall that the Time-Turner was malfunctioning?'

'I – I don't know,' Hermione stammered. She was going to say more, but Harry interrupted.

'Professor, everything we did happened twenty years ago, so why should we worry about things that are buried in the past?' That wasn't what he meant, not really. He was planning to have a word – alone – with Dumbledore as soon as possible. The old man had a lot of explaining to do.

But right now Dumbledore smiled benignly and unlocked the door. 'Hurry, you two,' he called softly as they went in and clambered into bed. 'Miss Granger, you were in the bed on the other side of Harry.'

'Oh … yes …' Hermione said confusedly. She got into the right bed and Dumbledore closed and locked the hospital wing door.

'Why didn't  _he_  – Professor Snape – tell?' Hermione whispered, as the room sank into darkness. 'Why did he let everybody think that he didn't know who cast the Patronus?'

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and, for the first time, tried to lose himself in Snape's mind. Again, images were swirling around in his brain, but this time they were mere memories … the doe Patronus … himself, Sirius and Hermione on the other side of the lake … and his mother, Lily: Lily smiling, Lily laughing, Lily writing the letter to her son, and he, Snape, was looking over her shoulder …  _'Souvenirs are good to keep. So are promises. And secrets. L. E.'_  And suddenly, as he jerked back into his own mind, Harry understood.

'He wanted to keep it a secret,' he said quietly, as they heard Madam Pomfrey approach the door, complaining about Dumbledore and in a very bad mood. 'Just between the few of us. And Lily.'

* * *

_I need to see the place where everything is hidden … I need to see the place where everything is hidden … I need to see the place where everything is hidden …_

'Yes!' Hermione cried. A solid wooden door had appeared in the blank wall near where they had been pacing. Ron looked up. His jaw dropped.

'C'mon,' Harry said, excitement mounting in his chest. He wrenched open the door and they went inside.

'Whoa,' Ron said fervently.

The room was jam-packed with discarded items: old schoolbooks, quills, bits of furniture and stacks of junk. There were piles of it, haphazardly strewn about, some of it in rows that stretched out into the enormously large room.

'Where is it, Harry?' Hermione asked.

Harry looked at the letter in his hand.  _'_ _The book should be on top of a crate, along with a_ _bust of an ugly warlock. Beside the crate on one side should be a stack of old newspapers',_ he read aloud.

'So, we should just look for a crate with a bust and a book on it, next to a pile of papers. Should be easy,' Ron said sarcastically.

Hermione insisted they go about it systematically, so they each chose a row of junk and searched it. After almost an hour, however, Ron and Hermione were almost ready to give up, but Harry insisted on continuing.

'It's got to be here somewhere,' he answered to Ron's complaints.

'Maybe it's not, mate,' Ron said doubtfully. 'Looking at all this junk, I'd say it'll take ages before we find that book. Now –'

'Harry! Here – it's here!' Hermione called triumphantly from the next aisle. Harry dashed over, Ron at his heels.

'Here,' she repeated, holding out an old copy of  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. 'You look inside.'

Harry took the book, slipped his hand inside the dust cover, and pulled out an envelope; yellowed with age. The glue had dried, and when Harry pushed his finger under, the flap opened easily, revealing a note:

> _Dear Harry and Hermione,_
> 
> _Remember how I said secrets are good to keep? Now you two have the secret of this room. I don't imagine many other people know about it, and it might be useful for other things than hiding two accidental time travellers. Keep that in mind, will you?_
> 
> _Lily_

Enclosed were three school photos: the first of the Gryffindor third-years, with Lily and Hermione (and James Potter, Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew in tow); the second of the Slytherin third-years (with Harry and Snape) and the third, all of the Hogwarts students for the 1973-1974 school year. They'd had the photos taken the day before Harry and Hermione returned. Looking at them, Harry realised he  _already owned_  copies of them – they were in the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. He'd never looked particularly hard at the people in them who weren't his parents, and the whole concept floored him.

'Is that Snape?' Ron asked interestedly, as Harry passed him one of the pictures. 'So you really went to school with him and your mum?'

'Just for a few weeks, but yeah,' Harry said. He and Hermione had told him pretty much everything that had happened after he'd been knocked out. It had been a  _long_  story.

'Weird,' said Ron fervently. 'Look – there's your dad – and if it weren't for your scar, you two'd look pretty much the same.'

'I know.'

'This is a really great room, you know,' Hermione said eagerly. 'We could use it to practice spells or something …'

'Give it a rest, Hermione,' Ron said, yawning. 'It's nearly the holidays!'

'Yeah,' Harry said vaguely. He was thinking about the Time-Turner Dumbledore had given them. Hermione had promised to destroy it, but  _he_  hadn't …


	23. Epilogue: We've Only Just Begun

'Professor,' Harry asked, 'suppose that the Time-Turner had worked properly the first time – the time Hermione and I went back to save Sirius and Buckbeak. What would have happened then?'

'We can only guess,' Dumbledore said gravely. 'No one can know what  _would_  have happened, Harry – but as it so happens, I have already given thought to this idea. If you and Miss Granger had succeeded in going back three hours the first time, my guess is that you would have saved Sirius and Buckbeak as per your first attempt.'

'Do you know who saved us from the Dementors, sir?' Harry asked, holding his breath.

'I guessed,' Dumbledore said, smiling.

'Sir ... can I ask you something?'

Dumbledore chuckled immoderately. 'Yes?'

'When I was by the lake when Snape –'

' _Professor_  Snape, Harry –'

'Yes, sir. When Snape was standing there, casting the Patronus, I kept switching from my mind to his – I don't know how, but I could tell what he was feeling and see things the way - the way he saw them. It stopped when the Patronus disappeared. Professor, why ...?' Harry trailed off, looking into Dumbledore's face.

'I know more about your relationship with Professor Snape than you think, Harry,' Dumbledore answered. 'I was the one who suggested the idea of the empathy link to him. I trust you know now why it exists. It is my belief that this connection opens whenever either of you are feeling particularly emotional, and allows you to see into the other's mind. Such a connection does not come by chance, Harry. It is a result of your mother's love – for both you and Professor Snape.'

'But there's another thing, Professor,' Harry interjected, and suddenly his voice was hard and cold. 'When I was in the Chamber of Secrets, the Basilisk told me that I had the Heir of Slytherin in me, but I wasn't the heir. Professor –' and here Harry looked up in the old man's face '– why didn't you  _tell_  me I've got Voldemort inside me? You only said that he  _transferred some of his powers_  to me. Why didn't you tell me the whole story?' He was almost shaking with anger, and it took all of his willpower to remain calm. 'I want answers.'

Dumbledore looked sad at Harry's furious face. 'I wanted to protect your innocence,' he said softly, and in the thick tension between headmaster and pupil the six words sounded ridiculously lame. 'What kind of boy wants to go around with the knowledge that he carries inside him the wizard who killed his parents? I wanted to shield you. You were happy – I saw no need to break your bubble.'

'But I'm  _not_  innocent!' Harry exploded. 'I haven't been  _innocent_  ever since Voldemort gave me this bloody scar.' He lifted up his fringe and showed the lightning-bolt shaped cut to Dumbledore, who drew back almost imperceptibly. 'That's just an excuse you thought up, pretending you were the master of your little wizard chess game – well, I'm not playing anymore! I reckon you justified all your twisted thinking by claiming it was all  _for the greater good_!'

This time Dumbledore recoiled as if Harry's words had slapped him around the face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Harry, impassioned with anger, didn't let him say it.

'And I don't reckon you really  _care_ , do you, that Voldemort's inside me? You were probably going to work on destroying Voldemort all by yourself, and then only tell me at the last moment that I've probably got to bloody  _die_  because I've got a Dark Lord inside me, and  _then_  make me out as some sort of  _hero_  who died oh-so- _nobly_  defending the wizarding world against Voldemort! Well, why don't you just tell me that now! Tell me  _everything_  you've ever kept from little innocent me about  _my_  life!' Here Harry paused to take a breath, and angrily blinked away the tears that threatened to blur his vision. He didn't care if he got detention or got expelled for yelling at the Headmaster; he just wanted to know the truth.

Dumbledore watched the livid thirteen-year-old boy stalk up and down, occasionally kicking random things in the headmaster's office, but never shifting his eyes from Dumbledore's face. Then he said, 'Please try to calm down, Harry. You are partly right – I have been keeping things from you – and partly wrong ... you don't know the whole story.' He waited, but Harry did not say anything, only throwing himself into the chair at Dumbledore's desk and glaring at him.

Dumbledore sighed. 'The Basilisk was not fully correct,' he said calmly. 'Only a part of Lord Voldemort lives inside you, not the whole soul. To understand this, I need to tell you about Horcruxes. Horcruxes have been used by people wishing to conquer, or simply postpone death. A Horcrux is what happens when a person splits his soul and puts a part inside a physical object. Once that part of his soul is under the protection of that object, that person cannot die.'

'Can't?' Harry interrupted questioningly, his interest piqued in spite of himself.

'Not until all the pieces of his soul have been destroyed. Usually, when people make Horcruxes, they only make one, as it is incredibly damaging to split the soul even once. For splitting the soul can only be done through the killing of another human being. Can you think of anybody who would want to split their soul, against all the risks and consequences that might ensue?'

'Voldemort,' Harry said instinctively, then realised what the full meaning of what he had said. 'Professor, you don't mean ...'

'... that Lord Voldemort created a Horcrux? By all means. I have suspected he did for a while, but I received what I believed was almost conclusive evidence about a year ago, when you handed me the remains of Tom Riddle's diary. A seemingly harmless but incredibly dangerous diary bearing the former name of Lord Voldemort that could possess an innocent girl and almost destroy her life? And even though that Horcrux was destroyed, he would still have others – precious magical artefacts into which he imparted parts of his soul. One was the diary. About any others, I am not completely sure, but I have my suspicions.'

'But ... I'm a Horcrux.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'That, my dear boy, is practically confirmed, I am afraid. The strange connection that was brought to light in your first year, of your scar paining you whenever you came near Voldemort while he was in a particularly vulnerable or powerful state, your ability to speak and understand Parseltongue, the Sorting Hat's insistence that you would have done well in Slytherin (going so far as to Sort you there upon your arrival in the past) – these factors all point to your being a Horcrux. When Lord Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at you that night in 1981, the curse rebounded on your because of your mother's love and hit Voldemort, causing what was left of his soul there to shatter. A tiny piece of his soul was blasted away from the rest and latched itself onto the only living thing left in that room – you.' Here Dumbledore stopped, if nothing else, to see the expression upon Harry's face.

Ignoring a rising sense of fear, Harry said slowly, 'You told me at the end of first year, Professor, when I asked you why Voldemort would want to try to kill me, that I was too young to know. I want to know why now.'

Dumbledore hesitated for a split second, then launched into a long and harrowing tale about the war, which had begun before Harry was born and ended on the day his parents died – and about a prophecy, made before Harry was born, that foretold the birth of a child, a boy, who would bring hope to the wizarding world:

_'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...'_

It was like something out of a fairy tale for a boy who had only known about the wizarding world for three years, if that. His first instinct was to dismiss the prophecy as nonsense – after all, he, Ron and Hermione had always discounted Trelawney as a fraud – but then he remembered what she had told him all of a few hours, and a month, ago:  _It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight ... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight ... before midnight ... the servant ... will set out ... to rejoin ... his master ..._  Now that he knew what she had done, what she  _could_ do, it made more sense. He related his thoughts to Dumbledore, who nodded.

'I believe it was a true prophecy that you witnessed, Harry. It is apparent now that part of it has come true. Whether the second part will or not, we cannot be certain.'

'Can't we? So prophecies don't  _always_  get fulfilled?'

Dumbledore shook his head sadly at Harry, whose hopeful expression morphed into one of disappointment. 'Yes ... and no. The prophecy concerning you and your parents would not have come true if Lord Voldemort had not first heard it and chose for it to be true. It is our choices that define us, Harry, much more than our actions, and fourteen years ago, Voldemort made a choice that would set up his own downfall. By choosing to believe in the prophecy, he ensured that there would be somebody with the power to vanquish him, somebody whom he  _marked as his equal_. Do you see?'

Harry nodded, temporarily silenced, but as the weight of what he had been told hit him, he finally understood the full impact of what Dumbledore's words. 'So ...' he began, a cold dread settling in his stomach, '... so, since I've got a piece of Voldemort inside me, and neither can live while the other survives, and all the Horcruxes need to be destroyed for him to die, does that mean that  _I_  have to die ... eventually?' He found Dumbledore's eyes, full of sympathy and regret, and got all the answer he needed. 'No ... it  _can't_  be true ...'

He had just met his godfather and his parents' old friends in the past year. He still had to get to know Sirius well ... there were so many things to do and go and see and rescue and protect ... he  _couldn't_  be a Horcrux, he couldn't!

'I'm sorry, Harry.'

Harry opened his mouth, preferably to shoot another denial at Dumbledore, but Dumbledore's head moved very slightly and Harry caught a glimpse of the blue eyes behind the old-man spectacles. A tear was slowly making its way down the old man's creased face and onto his long white beard.

All the fight went out of Harry. He had no energy even to sit up straight properly, slumping as he did in the saggy armchair. How was he going to tell Ron – Hermione – Sirius – that he had to die so that Voldemort could be finally vanquished? He had a strong suspicion it would either kill Sirius or Sirius would kill him. Then a thought burst into his mind unheeded and he sprang upright. Dumbledore gave him a politely inquiring look, and Harry took this as a signal to talk.

'Professor, you know how I told you about going to the Chamber of Secrets again,' he began hesitantly, partly unwilling to speak of his latest blunder. But Dumbledore tipped his head slightly to the side, inviting him to continue, which Harry reluctantly did. 'The Basilisk got me in the end, right here' – he moved a hand to cover his midriff – 'and I passed out, but when I woke up, it was like nothing'd happened.' He turned green eyes appealingly to Dumbledore. 'I mean, my robes were ripped and all, and there was blood all over me, but I didn't have a scratch.'

Dumbledore smiled – not an indulgent smile. 'I have an idea how that might have come about, Harry. If I remember correctly, when you were wounded by the Basilisk last June, you would have been killed had it not been for Fawkes' tears?'

'Yes ... but Fawkes didn't come this time –'

'No. It is my opinion that  _he did not need to_.' As Harry remained blank, Dumbledore elaborated: 'Phoenix tears are a beautiful and mysterious substance, Harry. They are the only known antidote to Basilisk venom, and it appears – though it has never been tested before – that once they have been absorbed into the blood, they never leave it. Therefore it was Fawkes' tears in your blood that saved you from dying in your second encounter with the Basilisk. Does that answer your question?'

'Not really ... I was hoping,' Harry said in a defeated voice, 'that the Basilisk might have destroyed the Horcrux. But of course it couldn't have – I was just being stupid.' He felt furious with himself forallowing his unconscious wishes to distort his sense of reality and bring him to a faulty conclusion.

'Why do you say that?' Dumbledore said curiously, with a strange look that Harry could not interpret.

'Because when I was leaving, I used Parseltongue to close the the Chamber,' Harry continued, downcast. Dumbledore let out a soft sigh. There was a long silence, in which Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs, apparently in deep thought, and Harry reflected bitterly on his second venture in the Chamber. He understood now that he  _couldn't_  have been able to kill the Basilisk the second (first?) time around, because it still had to be around in 1992, his second year. If only the Horcrux inside him had somehow been destroyed as well, it would have been worth it – every bit. He didn't feel like telling anybody else, not even Ron and Hermione, about it. It was just too much to absorb right now, on top of everything else. As for Snape, he would probably find out anyway, because of the empathy link. Now that he knew about Snape's past, Harry felt a bit of compassion for the Potions master. He had loved Harry's mother once upon a time, and he still loved her now – the scene by the lake had been proof enough. He supposed now that they had to work together to fight Voldemort; after all, they were on the same side. But then again, three years of mutual hatred couldn't be overcome in a day.

'It's not over yet, is it, Professor?' Harry asked bitterly, his eyes sharp with determination. 'Not by a long shot.'

Dumbledore smiled, his own eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. He turned and met Harry's gaze full on – not looking with condescension at the teenager, nor with regret or sentimentality. This was a war – or at least it was going to be – and he was looking at a boy who would have a very, very big impact on the result. A boy whom he had underestimated. A boy who had proven to be far, far more capable than his years.

'No, it isn't,' said Dumbledore to Harry. 'Because, really, we've only just begun.'


End file.
